#his only girl cousin is seven

[iadoreneteyam]

e!42 miles and his girlfriend going to his family barbecue

e!42 miles who begs his girlfriend’s to match shoes with him

e!42 miles who laughs in his girlfriend’s face when she says she wants to make a good impression on his family and says “why would I give a damn if they like you, mami?”

e!42 miles who makes sure his girlfriend has everything she needs to do her makeup as she sits down at his desk and looks into the led hello kitty mirror he bought her specifically for his house.

e!42 miles with a girlfriend who allows him to do her lipliner

e!42 miles who willingly sits in the backseat with his girlfriend when heading to the barbecue even though the passenger seat nexts to his mom is open

e!42 miles who does everything to annoy his girlfriend in the car.

e!42 miles who falls asleep on his girlfriend and drools but immediately denies that he drooled on her when they arrive at the barbecue

e!42 miles who puts his arm around his girlfriend’s waist to move her away from all his family members crowding him and his mom before leaning into his girlfriend’s ear and whispering “don’t want you to be overwhelmed, mami. my family is a bit of a handful y’know.” and kisses his girlfriend behind her ear before backing off.

e!42 miles who fights the urge to punch his cousin in the face when he hears something along the lines of “yeah, I don’t know how Miles ended up with a girl like that.” Miles heard murmurs agreeing before his cousin continued “wayyyyyy out of his league, man. he doesn’t even know what to do with that.”

e!42 miles and his girlfriend who runs to be the first in line to get barbecue when his older cousin yells that the food is ready only to be pushed aside with his cousin telling them “older men eat first.”

e!42 miles and his girlfriend who finally get their food and make and effort to sit away from his family because he “rather be with you than with them, y’know that mami.”

e!42 miles who refuses to let his girlfriend get herself another drink. “Imma get for ya so tell me what ya want, mami.”

e!42 miles who also refuses to let his girlfriend throw any of her own trash away

e!42 miles who immediately brings his girlfriend inside when she claims “it’s so hot, baby.”

e!42 miles who regrets coming inside because everyone now sees it as their chance to question him about the girl he brought

e!42 miles who is so happy to get away from all the hassling and to sit on the couch with his girlfriend

e!42 miles who smiles when he sees his girlfriend with his seven year old cousin in her lap as she helps her play uno against his mom

e!42 miles who comes over to the three of them and asks “y’all got room for one more?”

e!42 miles who groans after he loses to them twice before rushing his cousin off his girlfriend’s lap so he can pull her closer

e!42 miles who swings his girlfriend’s leg in his lap and asks her if she’s having fun

e!42 miles who silently begs his mom to go home once they hit the five hour mark to which his mom keeps waving him off saying “yeah sweetie let me just finish this conversation.” (they did not leave after that conversation)

e!42 miles and his girlfriend who don’t get to leave the party until it’s dark outside

e!42 miles who sits his girlfriend at his desk chair and grabs makeup wipes to help her take off her makeup

e!42 miles who lets his girlfriend take a shower first when they make it to his house so she can get more rest

e!42 miles who gets out the shower only to see his girlfriend still awake waiting for him

e!42 miles who gets in bed with his girlfriend, kisses her on the lips, and says “what I say about staying awake for me, mami ?”

e!42 miles who fights the pout on his face when his girlfriend tells him that her parents said she has to come home tomorrow

e!42 miles who just can’t sleep knowing his girlfriend is leaving in the morning

e!42 miles who wakes his girlfriend up and says “ya think ya parents will let me stay a couple days?”

e!42 miles who breaks out into a grin when his girlfriend tells him “ if you go get me breakfast in the morning I’ll ask, how’s that sound, baby?”

e!42 miles who kisses his girlfriend goodnight

#spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman #across the spiderverse #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles x reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales

[nonasuch]

here is a fun little star wars scenario that has been pinging around inside my head like a screensaver:

so let’s say there’s some very zealous, very low-ranking fresh young Imperial officer on duty the day they take the Senator from Alderaan into custody. 

and he is very very nervous because a) he’s been here for like a week and b) none of that week required him to be in a room with Darth Vader. which he now is. so he is trying to focus very very hard on Doing Everything Exactly According To Protocol, as a means of not focusing on the seven-foot evil wizard standing fifteen feet away.

and part of the protocol for processing new prisoners is to make a new file for them in the prisoner database, and enter all their biographical details and vital statistics and a gene sample and their known associates and the nature of their terrible crimes against the Empire and so on. which he does! very meticulously!

except the computer keeps throwing an error message. the stupid thing keeps beeping at him, this awful grating little noise that makes his shoulders ratchet up tighter and tighter every time it honks at him, and he can’t fix it and Darth Vader is right over there—

except oh god oh fuck the beeping noise must be annoying Darth Vader, too, because he’s coming over here and our poor junior officer is convinced he’s going to die before he even lives long enough to send his first paycheck home to his poor widowed mother —

he stammers out an apology. Vader just stares at him. he swears he’ll figure out the problem right away, sir, it’s probably a bug in the system, it’s just that for some silly reason it keeps saying this gene sample doesn’t match the one on file for the Senator so he can’t get her logged as a new prisoner just yet —

“Dismissed,” says Vader. the poor kid flees, gratefully.

Vader considers the matter. in fact, his underling was correct: the gene sample, which he saw taken through his very own helmet lenses, does not match the official record of Senator Leia Organa, heir to the throne of Alderaan. so: perhaps the sample on record was falsified. not impossible, but very, very difficult. and ordinarily a crime attempted by the lowly and desperate. he cannot see any need for it, in the daughter of a queen.

another possibility presents itself. Alderaan has no history of using royal doubles, as some worlds do. but Bail Organa has worked closely with royal houses where the practice is long-established. perhaps he was inspired. perhaps the girl they captured is not Leia Organa at all.

Vader runs the gene sample against the ship’s database. it is woefully incomplete, of course, containing only a fraction of the Empire’s billions of citizens: the ship’s own complement, a selection of known criminals and Rebels they might encounter, high-ranking officials whose identity must be confirmed should the Emperor require their presence. unlikely that this girl, whoever she is, would have a record here, or even a partial match—

the computer beeps at him. it’s a cheerful beep, this time, not the error message that stymied the junior officer. the computer reports that the gene sample is a partial match for Pooja Naberrie, the Senator from Naboo. they are, with eighty-nine percent probability, first cousins.

and Vader just. kind of stands there. for a minute.

when he goes to Leia’s cell, there’s no interrogation droid with him. he goes in. he shuts the door behind him. he stands there, silent, for frankly a worryingly long time, until Leia has run through her entire stockpile of  “how dare you, I’m a member of the Senate on a humanitarian mission” and “whatever you want, you can’t possibly think I would be of any help” and “well, if you’re going to interrogate me, get on with it already” and “are you even listening to me?” and  falls silent herself. 

Vader has been listening to her. he has also been listening to the Force, which seems to think that she’s not lying. obviously the humanitarian mission part is bullshit, that goes without saying. but the “I’m Senator Leia Organa” parts and the “I won’t help you” parts? yeah. he searched his feelings. he knows them to be true. the Force is singing in his head, bright and clear, in a way it hasn’t for nearly twenty years.

there’s still Tarkin to deal with, though. Vader turns and leaves the cell without a word.

Tarkin wants to blow up Alderaan. this is unacceptable, obviously, and Vader forbids it on the grounds that the Queen and the Viceroy possess vital intelligence, not disclosed to their daughter, that must be acquired. said intelligence being, not that he’s saying this out loud, how the fuck Bail got his hands on his daughter, and who else knows about it.

“the fate of the galaxy rests on it,” is what he does say out loud. from the way the Force harmonizes with his words, that might even be true.

so the Death Star just. parks there. in an incredibly threatening orbit around the planet. they issue a demand that the Organas surrender themselves, or else, but apparently the happy couple just left for a low-tech weekend retreat in the mountains, what awful timing, they’re sending someone to fetch them right away. Vader shuts himself up in his quarters, to seethe and watch the surveillance feed from Leia’s cell. he’s not really paying attention to much else. 

and it’s not like a random freighter getting tractored in for being an incredibly obvious smuggling vessel is the kind of thing you’d alert Darth Vader over, anyway. 

so he’s still sitting there, one great big thought filling up his whole entire head, watching Leia take a frustration nap, when her cell door opens. 

and a trooper comes in.

and the trooper takes off his helmet.

and he says, “I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you.”

(continued here)

#i have no idea what happens after that but it's definitely not the plot of star wars: a new hope #star wars #not fic

[hazbinwhoree]

Guardian angel pt.2? I'm already addicted to and love your stuff. Thx! :3

Guardian Angel

Part 2/3 Part 3

A/N: Can anyone guess how I’m gonna end it?

Even if Adam wanted to bring (Name) to the light, which he didn’t, the task would prove nearly impossible anyway. Because Adam was coming to learn that (Name) was quite the little sinner. In only one week, she exhibited each of the 7 Sins.

She got in a fight with her best friend and refused to apologize, even though it meant sacrificing their relationship. Pride.

She spent over a hundred dollars in one sitting online shopping for shit she didn’t need. Greed.

She spent ten minutes going through another girl’s social media page, making snide comments about her as she went. Envy.

She broke a lamp in a fit of rage over, well, Adam didn’t even know what her temper tantrum was about. Wrath.

She kicked Adam out so she could have some “Self Love Time” as she called it. Lust.

She was a glutton not of food, but of weed and alcohol, never satisifed unless she was not sober at least once during her day. Gluttony.

She would spend entire days rotting in her bed, neglecting all responsibilities. Sloth.

Long story short, Adam was pretty certain that were (Name) to die, she had herself a one way ticket down to Hell. The thought bothered Adam, and he realized that it really was up to him to make sure she got into Heaven.

“You’re sinful,” Adam blurted out one day while (Name) was listening to CPR by cupcakKe. (Name) paused the music. “It’s the song, isn’t it.”

“No… well, yes, but not just the song. I’ve seen you commit every single fucking one of the 7 Sins just this week. How do you expect to get into Heaven like that?”

“I don’t,” (Name) shrugged, going to unpause her music.

“You don’t care about going to Hell?” Adam was flabbergasted.

“Not particularly.”

“Well I’m your guardian angel, sweetie, so it’s my job to help you get into Heaven.”

“Really? Cause I don’t even know how you made it into Heaven. Their standards must be pretty low, I have a chance.”

“Oh eat shit,” Adam snapped, narrowing his eyes.

(Name) smirked.

“Have you heard of the Seven Heavenly Virtues?” Adam asked. (Name) looked bored. “I’ve heard of them… don’t know what they are.” “Well you’re going to do something that encompasses each one this week.”

And Lucifer be damned, Adam managed to get her to do something for every virtue.

She apologized to her best friend and they began to repair their relationship. Humility.

She gave a bunch of clothes she didn’t need to her younger cousin. Charity.

She left positive comments on that girl’s social media page. Kindness.

She did breathing exercises the next time she got angry instead of destroying her surroundings. Patience.

She stopped her copious amount of weed and alcohol consumption. Temperance.

She stayed on top of her responsibilities and began taking her job more seriously. Diligence.

Adam was proud of both her, and himself for getting her to do these things. Maybe she had a chance to get into Heaven yet.

“Why is it so important to you that I get into Heaven?” (Name) asked one night at dinner. Adam paused eating. “Uh, cause it’s my job, bitch.” (Name) rolled her eyes. “Yeah but you didn’t start doing your job until recently. What changed?”

“Maybe I never want to have to say goodbye.”

(Name) hadn’t been expecting such a confession. “You want me to go to Heaven… to be with you?”

Adam scowled, embarrassed. “No.”

They fell into awkward silence.

“For what it’s worth,” (Name) said. “I wouldn’t mind spending eternity with you.”

#hazbin adam #adam x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel #hazbin lute #x reader #fluff

[roosterforme]

That's My Boy | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets caught up in his emotions after Everett turns twelve. As his son gets older, he realizes that days spent playing baseball in the park together will grow fewer in number. He wants to make all of them count.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

Length: 2400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

This is a Batting Practice one-shot but can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @mak-32

"I can't believe he's turning twelve next week," Bradley muttered as you and he stood in front of a wall of baseball bats in San Diego's best sporting goods store. "It feels like he just turned seven."

You slipped your arms around his waist and gave him a squeeze. "Have I mentioned yet that I love that you kept the Padres game tradition alive every year for his birthday? Ev is going to flip when you tell him you got box seats for the game on Sunday."

Bradley kissed the top of your head and grunted softly as he smiled. "I fucking love that kid. He still asks me to take him to the park to hit balls all the time. And I just don't know how much longer he's going to think I'm cool, you know?"

You snorted against Bradley's chest and then looked up at him. "He'll probably think you're cool for longer than he thinks I am!"

"Well, yeah. Obviously, Kitten," he said as he rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh. "But I might only last another year or so past you."

"You're obnoxious," you informed him with a grin as he positioned you with your arms out in front of you and your palms up. 

"I know," he replied, giving you another kiss. Then he walked around the store and loaded your arms with two new bats, a new mitt, cleats and some baseballs. "I think that's good. Plus I ordered him and I those personalized Phillies throwback jerseys."

"Seriously? You think the two of you needed more Phillies jerseys? You probably already have half a dozen with BRADSHAW on the back."

"Actually I have seven. This will make eight," he said, pulling you closer to him while your arms were still full. "But he won't be a kid for much longer. He's not gonna want to match with me when he's eighteen. And I love spoiling him. And you."

You set everything down at the register while Bradley dug his credit card out of his wallet. "So..." you said softly while the cashier bagged everything up, and he paid. Bradley looked at you out of the corner of his eye as you ran your hand along the back of his bicep. "You want to take me home and spoil me while Everett is with his cousins for the evening?"

Bradley smirked and grabbed the bag, lacing his fingers with yours. "You want to dress up in your bodysuit and kitten ears for me? Let me kiss off your whiskers?" 

You were giggling as you ran out to his Bronco, and Bradley was hot on your heels.

----------------------------

"Dad, I want to try out my new gear," Everett whined as he looked out the front window at the pouring rain a week later. His voice was starting to get deeper, and all of the girls in his class had a crush on him. He had grown up so much since Bradley met him, and sometimes it still shocked him that he had a son. 

"It's supposed to be nicer out tomorrow. We can go then."

Everett turned and looked at him. "But tomorrow's your birthday."

Bradley smiled. He couldn't think of anything he'd rather do after work than come home, get changed, grab his mitt, and go to the park. "Yeah, it'll be fun."

But Everett still looked skeptical. "Won't Mom be mad if we ditch her on your birthday?"

"Nah. We'll be home for dinner. And I'll make it up to her later."

Everett grimaced and started to head upstairs, but then he paused and asked, "Can we wear our new jerseys?"

"Of course."

And it turned out, you were a little annoyed at first the following day. "I have birthday dinner and cupcakes planned. I thought the three of us could eat together here since we're going to the pizza place with Molly and Bob on Friday."

Bradley pulled you close and whispered, "Just for an hour?" He rubbed your back and gave you his sweetest expression. "We'll just hit a few balls and come right back."

He turned as he heard Everett thunder down the stairs. "Ready, Coach?"

"Please?" Bradley asked you, kissing your forehead. 

"Go," you said, pushing him toward Everett. "But seriously, be home by seven or I'll eat all the cupcakes myself."

Bradley and Everett ran out the front door with twin grins and loaded their gear into the back of the Bronco. It was strange to see how tall his son had gotten after a recent growth spurt; he was already almost as tall as you. Another few years, and he'd be the same height as Bradley. Maybe taller. 

"You okay?" Everett asked, and Bradley realized he was just standing there staring at him. He looked a lot like his biological father, but he really looked so much like you.

"Yeah," he grunted, kind of missing the days when he would buckle Everett into his booster seat. Now he climbed into the front seat without help. Bradley started the engine and said, "A few more years and I'll be teaching you how to drive this thing."

Everett's eyes bugged out. "You'll let me drive the Bronco? Mom hardly ever even drives it."

"Yeah, well, Mom doesn't appreciate the fine art of making sure it doesn't stall out on the highway."

"I would," he replied, looking around the interior like it was a hallowed space. 

Bradley nodded as he pulled into the parking lot. "I don't doubt it, Kiddo. You ready to test out your new bats?"

"So ready!"

The grass was still a little damp from all the rain, but the air smelled fresh as the sun dipped closer to the horizon. Bradley waited until Everett signalled that he was ready, and then he pitched an easy slider to him. Everett sent it soaring. "Holy shit," Bradley muttered as he watched where it landed so they could collect it later. "Nice," he called out as he reached into his bucket for another ball.

This time he threw the same pitch but harder. The result was identical as Everett nailed it far into the outfield. "I like this bat!" he said, adjusting his stance, ready for more.

Bradley rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck before throwing his slider again, this time with everything he had. He could feel the ball leave his hand. The perfect pitch. And then he heard the crack of the bat. The perfect hit. This time the ball went even farther than the last two.

"Damn," Bradley said, reaching for another ball and rolling it around in his glove a few times. "Try the other bat," he told Everett, and he watched his son switch them and take a few practice swings.

"Ready!"

Maybe he wouldn't be expecting a fastball this time. Bradley wound up and threw a pitch that even Bob could only hit half the time in the rec league games. 

Crack!

"Jesus, Everett," he said as he watched the ball sail directly over his head. In a real game, it would have been an easy out for the center fielder, but it was hit so well and so hard, Bradley was kind of shocked. 

"Come on, Dad," Everett called. "Throw a really hard one."

Bradley looked at his eager face. He wasn't taunting; he really wanted a harder pitch. But Bradley was already starting to get a little sore as he scooped up another ball. He threw the hardest changeup he could muster, and while it wasn't a clean hit, Everett still got some wood on it. 

But when he threw that pitch again, Everett hit it square on and sent it sailing farther than the other balls in the outfield. "Damn, Kiddo," Bradley said, gaping at his son who looked completely unfazed. 

"Wanna switch places?" Everett asked, heading toward Bradley and handing him the bat. 

But it was more of the same. Sure, the bat wasn't quite big enough for Bradley, and it was still hard for Everett to stay in the strike zone, but Bradley could barely hit his pitches. They were too fast. His slider was so good, he had Bradley swinging too late. His changeup was so sneaky, Bradley swung early. 

Finally, Everett threw a fastball that Bradley nailed so hard, they'd be lucky to find it in the treeline. "That's a birthday home run, Coach!" Everett cheered, jumping and tossing another ball up into the air.

"Yeah," Bradley rasped, just standing there staring at the twelve year old. He felt tears prickle his eyes as he smiled and closed the distance between them. "You're really good, Ev," he whispered, pulling him tight to his body. When his son smiled up at him with his slightly crooked front tooth and bright eyes, Bradley said, "Let's get home for dinner with Mom."

-------------------------------

You loved more than anything that you and Everett had Bradley in your lives, and that the boys so easily lost track of time when they were together. But tonight you made an enormous dinner for your husband's birthday, and now they were late getting back. Just as you started to make yourself a plate of food, unable to wait any longer to eat, the two of them burst through the front door. Everett was talking a mile a minute, and they looked absolutely adorable in their matching shirts. 

"Did you have fun?" you asked, taking a bite of mashed potatoes. It was actually impossible to be annoyed at them when they got like this. But Bradley met your eyes with a soft smile on his face that almost looked a little sad. 

"Yeah," he replied, his voice rough. When you set your plate down and went to him, he pulled you in for a hug. "Thanks for making dinner."

"Happy birthday," you whispered for probably the hundredth time today. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I'm perfect."

The three of you ate at the table, but Bradley was a little quieter than usual. And he only ate one cupcake instead of two or three. And you thought you saw tears in his eyes when he opened the enormous Phanatic foam finger Everett picked out for him. 

"I love it. And I love you," Bradley told Everett as he hugged him. "We can put it upstairs in the Phillies room."

You watched the way your son hugged him as he said, "Happy birthday, Dad." There was no way that kid was ever going to stop thinking Bradley was cool. 

"Ev, sweetie, it's time to start getting ready for bed," you reminded him.

"Go on up and get a shower, and then I'll tuck you in," Bradley told him as Everett went thundering up the stairs. 

He was old enough that he probably didn't still need to be tucked in, but you knew for a fact that Everett had never once asked Bradley to stop. When you looked at your husband across the table, he was rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. You stood and went to him as you softly asked, "Will you please tell me what's wrong?"

He looked up at you with tear filled eyes before scooting his chair back and patting his thigh so you'd sit on his lap. You settled in with your arms around his neck, and he kissed your cheek and your shoulder as he visibly tried to hold back his tears. 

"God, Kitten. You should have seen him tonight. He's just so fucking good."

"I know he is," you replied, kissing his cheek.

"No. He's better than me now. He hit the hardest pitch I could throw, and then I could barely make contact with his slider."

You let those words really sink in. Bradley was easily one of the best players in his recreational league. He could pitch nine innings and make it look easy. He could hit the ball beyond the fences. "Are you serious?"

"I'm so fucking serious, Baby," he whispered, rubbing his mustache along your neck. "He's twelve. His voice hasn't even changed all the way yet. He hasn't even reached his maximum height."

You took Bradley's face in your hands and kissed his nose. "And this is making you cry?"

He shrugged as you ran your thumbs along his rosy cheeks. "I'm just overwhelmed. He seems so grown up now." He closed his eyes, voice shaky as he said, "I wish I'd had more time with him when he was a little kid, you know? I didn't get to see him when he was a toddler or anything. It would have been nice to have another year of tee ball. Hell, I wish I'd had a few more years with you, too." 

Now your throat felt tight with tears of your own, but you shook your head. "You found us at just the right time. Right when we needed you the most."

Your forehead came to rest against his as he gave up the battle and let himself cry. You loved that he was so soft for the two of you and let you see his emotions. He took as much time as he needed while you ran your fingers through his hair, and when he met your eyes again, he was smiling.

"I don't know what I'm going to do when he doesn't want to play ball in the park with me anymore," he said with a laugh as he wiped his eyes. "I live for this shit."

You kissed his cheek as you heard Everett calling for him to come upstairs. "I really don't think you're going to have to worry about that, Coach."

Bradley stood but kept you close. "Pretty soon he'll be grown. An actual man."

When he tried to walk away to tuck Everett in, you put your hands on his chest to keep him in place. "Yeah. He will. And he'll have the best role model in you to show him how it's done."

Bradley ran his hand over his forehead, and he looked like he might start crying again. "I better go tuck him in while I still can."

You nodded and followed him up the stairs. When he turned right toward Everett's bedroom, you stood in the hallway, blinking away your own tears as you listened to their voices. Their combined laughter filled your house and your heart as you waited to take your husband's hand for the night whenever he was done being the dad who was tailor made for Everett.

-------------------------

Soft and sweet Coach makes me tear up every time. Bradley, Everett is always going to think you're cool, and he's always going to want to spend time with you. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster fanfiction #rooster imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster bradshaw fic #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #that's my boy

[petitemistletoe]

She-Wolf

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader, Sirius Black x Reader, Remus Lupin x Reader, Wolfstar x Reader

Warnings: smut, angst

Word Count: 4K+

A/N: She-Wolf by Shakira is such a Marauders song thank you Shakira for your contributions to society

S.O.S. she's in disguise

S.O.S. she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

“Alright James?” Remus asked as he set his books down on his bed, Sirius and Peter trailing in behind him. 

“Yeah, Prongs, what the hell are you doing?” Sirius asked, flopping down on his bed and watching James throw away a cluster of chocolate frog wrappers. 

“I’m cleaning after you animals.” James rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Why?” Peter asked. 

“My cousin is coming to visit and I got permission for her to stay here.” James held up a set of a dirty robes that had been hidden under Peter’s bed and gagged. 

“Your cousin? I thought she was up in the Pyrenees at Beauxbatons.” Remus bent down to help James pick up discarded candy bean packages. 

“Is she still a foul little bitch?” Peter said, flopping onto his bed and scowling.

“Whoa Wormy! Didn’t know you even knew that word!” Sirius laughed. 

“Don’t tell me you’re still upset with her for your little quidditch incident when we were seven.” James laughed.

“She hit me with her broomstick and broke my nose.” Peter sulked. 

“That was years ago, Peter. Beauxbatons has a holiday for some French event and I got Dumbledore’s permission to stay. I need everyone to be on their best behavior because she’s going to meet Evans for the first time.” 

“I will not be nice to her.” Peter crossed his arms.

“Yes, you will.” James’ words were clipped. Sirius was going to fire off some other ugly compliment when there was a knock at the dorm door. 

“Professor Dumbledore,” James took a step back from the door. 

“Hello gentlemen. James, your cousin’s chariot has landed by the black lake. She’s in the great hall now, waiting for you.” Dumbledore smiled. James, Remus, and Sirius bounded down the stairs while Peter sulked upstairs.

Remus was absolutely knocked back when he saw you. Sure, you were absolutely gorgeous but there was something about you, something he couldn’t quite name that had him enraptured by you. 

You were seated at the Gryffindor table in the great hall, talking to Mary. You hand was light on Mary’s arm, your head thrown back in laughter at something Mary had said. 

“Potter! You didn’t tell me your cousin was so hilarious.” Mary grinned as the boys sat down next to you. 

“It’s so good to see you, James.” You gave your cousin a tight hug before looking at the two boys seated next to him. “I imagine you must be Sirius and Remus. James never shuts up about you.”

A domesticated girl that's all you ask of me

Darling, it is no joke, this is lycanthropy

The moon's awake now, with eyes wide open

My body's craving, so feed the hungry

“Guilty as charged.” Sirius winked.

“Where’s Peter?” You asked. 

“He’s still cross with you about the broomstick.” James rolled his eyes.

“Oh my God that was like ten years ago.” You laughed and rolled your own eyes. 

“So how long will you be staying with us?” Sirius asked. 

“The whole weekend!”

“That long?” James looked alarmed. He had told the boys that you were only staying for the night.

“Is that alright?” You cocked your head. 

“Of course, of course. Moony, Pads, can I talk to you for a second?” James stood from the table and gestured for the boys to follow until they were out of earshot of the table. 

“So she’s staying for a week?” Sirius glared at James. 

“I didn’t know! What are we going to do?” James moaned. 

I've been devoting myself to you Monday to Monday and Friday to Friday

Not getting enough retribution or decent incentives to keep me at it

I'm starting to feel just a little abused like a coffee machine in an office, ah

So I'm gonna go somewhere cosy to get me a lover and tell you about it

“Do about what?” Peter asked, joining the group. 

“James’ cousin is staying for the entire weekend.” Remus sighed. 

“What about the moon on Saturday?” Peter asked. 

“Yeah, that’s the problem Pete.” Sirius rubbed his temples

“I knew there was nothing good that could happen with that girl around.” Peter shook his head and made his way back over to the table.

“Alright Peter?” You grinned up at the boy. 

“Potter.” He glared down at you. 

“Don’t tell me your still upset about the broom!”

“It’s all he’s talked about for the past two weeks.” Mary said with an eyeroll. “You’re coming to the Three Broomsticks tonight, right?”

“Am I?” You looked up at James. 

“Yeah! We’ll do dinner here and then drinks at the pub and you can meet Lily. I think you’ll love her.” James smiled. 

There's a she wolf in the closet

Open up and set it free

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

“Excellent! When’s dinner I’m starving?” You asked. 

“About an hour. I think James and I are going to do a quick spin on the pitch if you’d like to join. I’m sure Wormy would love it.” Sirius grinned at the thought of you being around Peter again with a broom. 

“I appreciate the offer but I actually was wondering if you could point me in the direction of Madame Pomfrey’s office.”

“What do you need to see Madame Pomfrey for?” James was immediately concerned, his hand going to your forehead to check your temperature. 

“I’m fine,” you laughed, “I’ve been wanting to explore the world of healing after I graduate and I hear that Poppy Pomfrey is one of the best medi-witches in the UK.” You explained. 

“I can walk you down,” Remus said, getting up and extending his hand to help you up. 

“See you all at dinner!” You waved to the group and walked down to the hospital wing with Remus. 

Remus left you in the hospital wing and made his way back up to the dorms, expecting to find it completely empty. He was surprised to see Sirius lounging on Remus’ bed, playing with a snitch. 

Sitting across a bar, staring right at her prey

It's going well so far, she's gonna get her way

Nocturnal creatures are not so prudent

The moon's my teacher, and I'm her student

“What are you doing up here?” Remus asked, sitting down hard on the bed and sighing. His body was sore, the way it always was in the days leading up to the moon. 

“Peter threw another hissy fit so James is calming him down. I didn’t want to hear him moan anymore so I thought I’d come here and hear you moan.” Sirius smirked, grabbing Remus by the back of the neck and kissing him hard. Remus chuckled and reciprocated, his teeth clashing against Sirius’ as he pulled off his shirt. Remus could feel Sirius growing hard beneath him and he chuckled, 

“You’re so needy for me.” Remus grinned. Sirius moaned into Remus’ open mouth and whispered, 

“You’re always so hot near the moon.” Sirius flipped Remus over so Sirius was on top and started to kiss down Remus’ jaw, then his chest, then down his stomach towards his cock. Sirius took Remus into his mouth and relaxed his mouth, trying to take in as much of Remus as he could. Remus knotted his fingers in Sirius’ dark hair and moaned, 

“Fuck yeah, Black. God that feels so good.”

Sirius moaned around Remus’ cock, taking out his own cock and jerking it as he sucked Remus off. Remus knew the moon heightened his emotions and impulses but he felt like his skin was on fire. It felt like every nerve ending was exposed and as he came he released a strangled, 

“Oh Potter.”

Sirius jerked his head back, his mouth still full of Remus’ cum and quirked an eyebrow at him. Sirius swallowed harshly and said, 

“You just killed my hard-on.”

To locate the single man I got on me a special radar

And the fire department hot line in case I get in trouble later

Not looking for cute little divos or rich city guys I just want to enjoy

By having a very good time and behave very bad in the arms of a boy

“I-” Remus was bright red and trying to make sense of what had just happened. 

“You don’t have a crush on James, do you?” Sirius joked. 

“No, no, not James…”

“It’s his cousin! I knew it! You’ve been acting weird ever since she got here.” Sirius was a little annoyed now, “I thought you were gay, you big liar.”

“I am! I don’t know what it is about her…something I can’t quite explain. Hopefully it’s all just related the moon.” Remus shook his head. 

“Maybe you should fuck her,” Sirius shrugged. 

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah. Get it out of your system. We could have a little threesome!” Sirius laughed. 

“With James’ cousin? He would murder us in cold blood.” Remus shook his head. 

You were making your way back up from the hospital wing when a girl started walking in stride with you. 

“Can I help you?” You asked her. James had warned you extensively of steering clear of the Slytherins and this girl wasn’t wearing her house tie so you were a bit concerned. 

“Sorry! I’m Lily, James’ girlfriend. You’re his cousin, aren’t you?” She stopped and stretched out her hand. 

“Oh hi! How did you know I was James’ cousin?” You asked, shaking her hand and resuming your walk.

“He’s talked about you for two weeks straight, I think I could’ve drawn you from memory. Also your powder blue Beauxbatons uniform makes you stick out like a sore thumb.” Lily giggled.

“Oh,” you released a laugh yourself, “I guess you’re right.” You fiddled with the sleeve of your uniform as you walked with Lily to the great hall. 

There's a she wolf in the closet

Open up and set it free

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

It was far more alive than it had been just an hour ago when you had arrived. The four large tables were packed, each one was practically overflowing with students who were talking loudly and over each other. You expected a clear divide between each house, after James’ comments about Slytherin but it seemed like there was a fair amount of intermingling. The Slytherins generally kept to themselves but other than that you saw people of all tie colors sitting together, chatting, eating, joking around. You saw Mary sitting in the lap of a boy with a yellow tie at a table that was not Gryffindor’s. You couldn’t help but stare at the Slytherin table as you walked towards the Gryffindor table. There was a boy at the table that was staring daggers at you. He had impossibly pale skin, a large hooked nose, and long dark hair that seemed overdue for a wash. He was seated next to a boy who bore a striking resemblance to Sirius and you seemed to remember your Aunt Effie mentioning something about taking in Sirius after a fall-out with his family. He was a Black, if you remembered correctly, and even though tensions about blood status were not as high in France as they were in the UK, you were well aware of the Black legacy. Perhaps this boy was Sirius’ brother. Regardless, he wasn’t the one staring at you-that was the greasy haired boy. 

Lily had something to you that you hadn’t processed and she followed your gaze to the boy. To your surprise, her face split into a grin and she waved at the boy who only blushed red and dropped his head. 

“That’s Severus. He’s…an old friend of mine. James doesn’t like that we’re friends. I’m sure he’s told you all about how awful and foul the Slytherins are.” Lily’s voice and an edge to it. 

“He has,” you nodded, “but James has always been very passionate about what he believes in.”

“That’s an understatement,” Lily nodded as you sat. You two were the first of the group to sit at the table and you relished the few moments of quiet where you could talk with Lily uninterrupted. 

“I’m not going to say anything bad about James,” you said, diplomatically, “but I have no business in writing people off before I can make my own sound judgement about them.”

“Oh,” Lily seemed to have been released of an intense weight on her shoulders, “I’m so glad to hear that. It’s rich coming from James, too, considering that Remus-” Lily’s eyes went wide and she immediately sucked in a deep breath. 

“Remus has all those scars, right? Must make him a target for bullies.” You supplied. 

“Yes, yes exactly.” Lily said gratefully. Before she could say anything else, Sirius and Remus waltzed into the hall, followed closely by James and Peter.

“Look at that! My two best girls are already acquainted!” James shoved his way between you and Lily and wrapped his arms around you both. 

“Oh God,” you gagged, wiggling out of James’ grasp and covering your nose with your hand.

“James you smell disgusting!” Lily also scooted away from James and gave him a playfully disgusted look. 

“I was on the pitch!” James said with mock shock, “Don’t act like you don’t love it Evans!” He practically tackled Lily, peppering with kisses as she pretended to retch. 

“Are they always that lovey-dovey?” You asked Sirius, who sitting across from you.

“Unbearably so.” Sirius rolled his eyes. 

“So how was your talk with Madame Pomfrey?” Remus asked. It seemed like every time you turned your head Remus was staring at you with his deep, inquisitive eyes. 

“Great! She shared a lot of great resources about healing.” You nodded and took a bite of your food. The blonde girl at the table, Marlene, whipped her head around.

“Are you interesting in healing?” She asked excitedly. 

“Uh, yes. I was thinking about pursuing it after I graduate.” You replied cautiously. 

“So will I! I’d love to pick your brain about it.” Marlene had a wide grin on her face. 

“Absolutely,” you said with mock confidence, “another time though. I’m here to spend time with my cousin, if he can bear detaching himself from his girlfriend for a moment.” 

The table came alive with that, everyone laughing and hollering as James and Lily broke apart both red faced and sheepish. James was informing you of the evening’s itinerary when you felt a foot trace its way up your leg. Not too far up or anything, but it was definitely there and it definitely belonged to one Sirius Black. He was looking at you with a smirk as his fingers danced around the rim of his goblet. It took an active effort for you to tear yourself away from his gaze and pay attention to what James was saying. 

“Hold on a second,” you held your hand up and looked at James in astonishment, “you want to hit the pitch tomorrow at seven in the morning after getting pissed tonight? Are you insane?” 

“I’m giving you an extra hour of sleep!” James was wearing a face of true astonishment at your protests. 

“Didn’t you know that James Potter has never ever been hungover in his life.” Peter said with a head shake.

“He’s absolutely insufferable after a night of drinking.” Sirius chuckled. His foot was still tracing up and down your leg. 

“Oh I bet he is.” You chuckled but your eyes never left Sirius’. 

“Where will you be sleeping?” Marlene asked. It seemed like dinner was finally coming to a close and you are were all just sipping at your goblets. 

“The boys’ dorm. I think Dumbledore was kind enough to set up an extra cot but we always used to sleep in the same bed when were little.” James pinched your cheek. 

“If you’re going to be insane about Quidditch tomorrow though I’m not sure I want to share a bed with you.” You chuckled. 

“You could always take Moony’s bed, he spends most his nights in Sirius’ bed anyway.” Peter shrugged. Someone breathed in sharply and everyone’s heads shot towards Peter like he’d said something out of turn. James’ gaze was stony, which was odd, you hadn’t known that your cousin had had a mean bone in his body. But here he was, glaring down his oldest friend. 

“You’re together?” You asked, looking between Remus and Sirius. 

“Yes,” Sirius said. James looked like he was ready to launch into a speech but you only shrugged and said, 

“You make a cute couple.”

There was a collective sigh as it seemed that the group was able to drop their guard again. You wondering how many people knew about Sirius and Remus’ relationship. You also found Sirius’ game of footsy all the more confusing. 

You had been a bit suspicious of the Gryffindors when you heard that James wasn’t prone to hangovers. You had assumed that the Gryffindors probably all passed around a bottle of spiked butterbeer and went to sleep a little warm and giggly. You were not expecting the rounds of shots, the drinking games, the chugging contests, the Weed. You were drunk out of your mind. Sirius was playing footsy with you again, being less subtle this time about the way he stared and ogled you. But everyone else was drunk too. Remus was staring, that was nothing new, but you figured maybe he was mad at you for capturing the attention of his boyfriend. But you could’ve sworn you had Remus’ attention first. 

“I’m gonna get another round.” Remus slurred, standing on shaky legs and walking over the bar. 

“I’ll go help,” Sirius followed Remus, slapping his ass hard as he made his way to the bar with his boyfriend. 

“Cheers Moony!” James laughed. His glasses were lopsided on his head and his jaw was covered in red lipstick kiss marks. Lily was perched comfortably on his lap and was resting her head in the crook of his neck. Marlene, Mary, and Peter had tapped out and returned about an hour before with their respective partners, no doubt trying to find unoccupied areas of the castle for a liquor-fueled hookup. 

“James I gotta question for you,” you giggled, knocking over an empty bottle of firewhiskey. 

“Anything for you, love,” James sent a wide grin your way. 

“Why do’ya call Remus Moony?”

“It’s actually a very interesting story,” James took his glasses off and pointed them your way but Lily slapped her hand over James’ mouth.

“I think you’ve had much too much to drink, James.” She said with a panicked laugh. Remus and Sirius returned with the tray of shots and you turned to the boys, 

“Remus, why does everyone call you Moony?” You asked him directly. 

“Just a nickname.” Sirius was casual, relaxed. An odd change from Lily. 

“Mooooony.” You crooned the entire way back to the dorms. “I like that. It has good mouth feel, you know.” You giggled at the sound of your own voice. James was brushing his teeth now, Lily had returned to her dorm and you were laying in James’ bed, just a blink away from falling asleep. 

S.O.S. she's in disguise

S.O.S. she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

“I quite like when you say my name,” Remus said, quickly and smoothly in your ear. His voice sent shivers down your spine. And then, you would tell yourself in the morning that you imagined it because you were so drunk, but you could have sworn that Remus licked up the side of your neck. 

When you woke up the next morning, your brain was pulsating inside your skull. You heard someone retching in the bathroom and you turned and found the bed empty. You tried to remember if James had even returned the night before or if you had left him in the pub when he sauntered back in, sweaty from a few rounds at the pitch. 

“There’s no way you aren’t hungover.” You groaned, turning over onto your stomach and wrapping your pillow over your ears. 

“Why don’t we get some breakfast? You’ll feel better.” James teased gently, trying to pull the covers off you. 

“Shut the fuck up James!” Remus snapped from behind his curtain. 

“Alright Moony, don’t yell just because it’s your time of the month. I have a bad enough headache as it is.” Peter was rubbing his temples as he exited the bathroom. He must’ve been the one vomiting earlier.

“Time of the month?” You asked. 

“Breakfast time!” James said suddenly, clapping his hands around your head. 

“Go away!” You groaned again, burying your head in your pillow until you were able to fall asleep again. When you woke up it was just you and Remus in the dorm. You dressed quietly as Remus explained that you two had slept through breakfast but you would be able to make lunch. Sirius and Peter had left just a few minutes before and James had already showered and finished an essay and was now waiting for you downstairs. You two made your way together down to the great hall where you wrapped your hands around a cup of coffee and nibbled at a piece of dry toast. Remus had loaded up his plate with a variety of lunch foods and you were staring at him in astonishment. Other than Remus, James was the only one with a normal appetite. 

“How are you not hungover?” You were flabbergasted, shaking your head at James. 

“You inherited Aunt Camille’s Veela status, I got her ability to avoid hangovers.” James shrugged. 

“So! I was thinking that you could spend the night in the girls’ dorm tonight. We’ll have a little sleepover.” Lily said with a grin. 

“Oh I’d love that but I actually want to spend more time with Jamesie here.” You smiled. Lily shot James a panicked expression that you weren’t able to fully understand. Remus leaned over and looked at the boys, sharing a knowing look that meant they all needed to talk. Luckily for the boys, you and Marlene were going to head to the library which meant the boys had free reign over the dorm for the foreseeable future. 

“Maybe it’s not a good idea for you all to come with me to the shack. We can’t risk your cousin finding anything out.” Remus sighed. 

“No! Moony we’ll figure it out, don’t worry. We can give her a strong sleeping draught tonight and sneak out after.” James reassured Remus. 

Remus was even more on edge than usual. Having you nearby and the approaching moon had his skin on fire and he just wanted to get the moon over and done with. Luckily for everyone, you had decided that your hangover was still plaguing you so you decided to spend the night in the hospital wing. 

S.O.S. she's in disguise

S.O.S. she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

The moon had been incredible. More than that. Remus had never felt so amazing and free. He was surprised, however, that he wasn’t back in the shack when he came to. He was shaking when he saw Sirius, James, and Peter staring over him concern written all over their faces. 

“What’s wrong?” Remus asked. 

“There was another wolf. You couldn’t keep away from each other. We have no idea where she came from.” Sirius was wringing his hands. They helped Remus up and were starting to head back to the shack when they saw someone stumble out of the woods and collapse at the edge of the clearing. 

“That must be the other wolf.” James said. The boys all ran, with Sirius supporting Remus still, over to the collapsed figure. 

“Oh my God.” Peter gasped. 

“There’s a she-wolf in disguise.” Sirius looked up at James, who could only stare down at your unconscious body below them. 

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #sirius black #Sirius black x reader #remus lupin x sirius black #wolfstar #remus lupin smut #Sirius black smut #remus lupin x reader smut #remus lupin angst #Sirius black x reader smut #sirius black angst #James potter #Peter pettigrew #lily evans #marauders #marauders era

[queers-gambit]

Confection Invention

prompt: what is a legacy other than what we're remembered for after we die? names are lost, stories altered, family names obsolete, but recipes are forever because cuisine transcends time.

or how Sansa Stark's favorite dessert, lemon cakes, came to be after discovering your husband's never had a nameday cake.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 3.5k+

warnings: none? none. seems suspicious.

Sansa Stark, newly crowned Queen in the North, was once a child too small, too scared, too sheltered from the harsh brutality of life's reality. Before she left Winterfell that fateful day, it was well known in the castle that the young girl adored the tasty sweet treat, lemon cakes. A confection of dense cake with lemon shreds mixed in the batter, a lemon glaze poured over, and garnished with a bright and tart lemon slice.

King's Landing was equipped to make the dessert and the young redhead still found pleasure in them, sure, but then shit got real when the Lannisters, you know, murdered her father. Sansa "grew up" and didn't bother with sweet treats after that. They just never tasted the same, and she began to admonish herself whenever she had a hankering; figuring with so much bad in the Realm, her want for cake was inappropriate and misplaced.

After years of turmoil, of losing any and everyone she ever cared for, the night the North declared her Queen of their newly-independent realm, Sansa Stark indulged herself and asked the kitchen staff to send lemon cakes to her room with supper. When her private meal was served, so was her dessert, and Sansa had to ask the servant serving her before they could disappear, "Excuse me?"

"Yes, Your Grace?" The serving maid bowed her head, facing Sansa with clasped hands locked stoically in front of her. Sansa almost cringed when she heard her new title, but refrained from reacting - it would simply just take getting used to.

"Might I ask, how are these made?"

"How what are made, Your Grace?"

"These lemon cakes."

"Oh, uh, I do not know the recipe, but I can ask the kitchens - "

"Well, it's odd, isn't it?"

"What is, Your Grace?"

"I've been all over the Realm," she spoke with an even tone, ever the emotionally-stunted diplomat, "and I've sampled many of these cakes in my lifetime, yet fail to find any real distinction. It's almost as if everyone is following the same recipe."

"Oh, well, I do know that they are, Your Grace."

"They are? All of the kingdoms?"

"Yes, Your Grace, i-it's a rare thing, but yes, the Seven Kingdoms use the same recipe."

"How can that be possible? How do they all get the same recipe?"

The maid glanced at the door nervously, "Uh, I-I do not know, Your Grace."

"You may speak freely, you are in no danger here," Sansa encouraged, gesturing to the only other empty chair at her table. "Please, come sit, indulge me in this tale. I am only curious."

"Well," she turned to shut the chamber door, speaking quietly as if what she was about to say was a secret, "it would depend if you know anything about the Targaryen dynasty, Your Grace."

"Only what was generically taught."

She nodded, taking the seat Sansa offered. "Some 2 centuries ago, there was a great scandal and a great war - one you may know as the Dance of Dragons." Sansa nodded and the maid explained anyway, "You see, it started because King Jaehaerys lost his heirs and was forced to choose between eligible familial candidates. Viserys Targaryen, the King's grandson, and his granddaughter, Viserys' cousin, Rhaenys Targaryen."

"Right, I remember the names somewhat."

"The King chose Viserys because, well, he was a man and Rhaenys was only a woman - though, married to a Velaryon, another ancient House hailing from Valyria." Sansa nodded along. "Anyways, uh, King Viserys' first wife was a Targaryen woman who gave him a daughter and then died birthing a son. He remarried a Hightower girl after that and had four other white-haired children; three sons and a daughter."

Sansa nodded slowly as she ate. Nothing like dinner and an entertaining story.

"The second son was Prince Aemond Targaryen, and he had this wife, you see, who was something akin to a saint on soil."

"Nobody's that nice," Sansa snarled in refusal, eyes almost rolling.

"You forget, Your Grace, some 200 years ago, the people never considered rebelling against the Targaryens. Only an arrogant fool would charge a horse at a dragon and think they'd win, so, at the time of this tale, there was no thought to protest the monarchy. Anyways, it wasn't just her kindness that made Aemond Targaryen's wife saint-like. It was all she was, and her most notable work was helping establish, build, organize, and operate orphanages in King's Landing, and then, around the Realm."

"Hmm."

"Well, she worked with those kids and apparently, had an affinity for baking. And because she worked with orphans, when she would take them around to other regions for adoption or placement, she'd leave each kid their own copy of the recipe."

Sansa considered the tale for a moment, then asked, "So, why lemon cakes? Where did they come from?"

The maid smiled.

Aemond Targaryen flinched when he heard something shatter, walking up the hallway alone and only a few strides from his bedchamber. When he opened his door, the One Eyed Prince actually laughed at the sight, "Oh, Gods, are you all right, my love?"

You pouted up at Aemond from the floor, "It was an accident."

"I can tell."

"I really didn't mean to."

He leaned on the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest, "No, no, I can tell by the way only the vase my mother gifted us for our wedding is broken. Never mind you telling me over the weeks how you despise it."

"It was an accident! I really didn't mean to," you sighed, glancing at the shattered vase around you.

"How'd it happen?" Aemond asked softly, moving forward after pushing off the doorframe and shutting the door. "Hmm? C'mere, little love," he bent at the waist to pick you up from the floor, hoist you in his arms, then carry you to the bed. "You all right? You hurt?"

"No...?"

"Show me."

You frowned and showed the shallow cut on the underside of your forearm, informing, "It was an accident, I swear t'the Seven, Aemond. I just tripped on the chair," you pointed to where the sitting furniture was overturned, "and fell into the table. I was replacing the flowers in the vase."

He nodded, "Your cut isn't bad, here, just hold this to it." Your husband pressed a spare cloth to your wound before straightening his spine. "Sit here a moment, I'll clean."

"No, let me - "

"No, no, love, just wait," he chuckled. In the time it took a maid to bring in a broom and dustpan, Aemond had successfully distracted you enough with casual conversation. It was there you discovered a secret you deemed unacceptable. "No, I am not lying, sweet girl," Aemond chuckled, "I've truly never had a cake for my nameday. The idea just seems silly, doesn't it? To celebrate such a common event?"

You scoffed, "We'll come back to your cynicism later. Surely, in your youth, your mother made you cake?"

"Being the second son, you often got overlooked," Aemond shrugged as if it didn't bother him. "I am not missing much, it's just cake."

"'Just cake'!? You say that because you do not know," you pouted. "What kind of a wife am I that I did not know this?"

Aemond laughed, "We've been married all of 3 months."

"It should've come up," your eyes rolled, "or at least in the lifetime of friendship before our betrothal."

"Consider this a learning opportunity between spouses. It isn't a bad thing," Aemond defended, the shattered and scattered ceramic being swept away. "So what, I've not had cake? I am missing nothing."

"It makes me sad."

Aemond laughed as he eyed you for a moment, nodding like he understood something. "You mean to remedy this, don't you?" He asked, showing the maid out of your chambers.

"Of course I do!"

He chuckled, "You know I am not fond of sweets."

"Doesn't matter, I'll find something you like. We can start with the basics, uh... Um... Well, I guess, do you like dense cakes? Fluffier, lighter ones?"

He paused to think, offering, "I like the gooseberry pies served at banquets?"

"Those are dense."

"Hmm, then dense is fine. They're in smaller quantities because they're so heavy."

You nodded, "Any flavors?"

"I am unsure on that front."

"Fruits? C'mon, fruits are usually really good with pastries and cakes."

"You know what I like," Aemond sighed, uncomfortable with the idea of attention for his nameday. "Trust me, love, I cannot make this decision - I just don't know. I am terribly green when it comes to sweets. Even when offered at formal events, you know I'm not interested."

"Well, how about a sampling? I can make you different treats and you tell me which you like."

Aemond chuckled, knowing you wouldn't let this go and agreed, "All right, sure."

And boy, did you keep to your word. The kitchen staff was already used to seeing you on a decently regular basis, but suddenly, you were spending all day in the kitchen, trying out different recipes. You made cakes, cookies, brownies, pastries, all kinds of desserts! You even went a step further, trying out newly invented ideas until narrowing down several options. You were determined to give Aemond something, wanting him to feel your love and effort in the confections because his nameday was the one day you had to pamper and spoil him without complaint.

(Though, trust me, he still complained and deflected attention.)

You loved Aemond's nameday because he had no choice but to be at the forefront of your attention and affection; something his family found amusing after their years of neglect towards him. Every other day of the year, he was stubborn and impossible and made everything about you; but not his nameday!

Even though he truly wasn't a fan of desserts, Aemond still met you on a balcony at the end of the week because not only did he adore making you happy, but he hardly ever said no to you. You had an array of treats made and displayed, and slowly, he sampled what you presented; speaking simply for your mental notes. However, he came upon something new - something he's not seen before.

"What's this?"

"Um, well... See, my younger siblings sometimes like citrus in their desserts, so, I thought this might be good? Or it could be tart - one or the other."

"This is lemon?"

"Yes, and that is made with limes from Volantis," you pointed to another platter, "that one's orange, that one's cherry, and that one has coconut."

"Where did you get coconuts and cherries?"

"That's not important. Which one is your favorite? It's what you're getting for your nameday, so do not lie."

"Pardon my pun, but the lemon cake takes the cake, sweet girl."

Aemond's heart soared in his chest when your grin of pride was hardly contained; looking pleased that you had invented something to his liking - making it all the more special, being something Aemond never has to share with others.

Sansa thought it was a lovely tale, clarifying, "So, when you say she established King's Landing's orphanages, did she use the Crown's money or the tax payer's?"

The maid smiled, "No, Your Grace, she used royal funds. King Viserys commissioned her bakery, and after a bit, the people actually started donating to her cause because the King offered tax exemption for those who donated."

"And she would take the kids around the Seven Kingdoms for placement? By herself? Why? Why not bake full time? She was obviously good at it."

"She was passionate, and the kids couldn't all fit in King's Landing anymore, so, she had to help relocate them for a better quality of life. She also gave each child the recipe so they could have a little taste of 'home' when they wanted."

Sansa nodded slowly. "How did word spread if she only made it for her husband on his nameday?"

"A moment, please," you interrupted your in-laws departure from the dinner table. When Alicent looked you in the eye, you smiled, "I've something for you all to try in honor of Prince Aemond's nameday."

"Oh, love, no," Aemond whispered in embarrassment, "not tonight."

"Would you mind, Mykal?" You asked the kind servant, who nodded once and exited the dining room.

"What's this about?" Otto questioned.

"Well, I thought we just might celebrate for just a moment together," you eased. "What with tensions so high lately, I just figured we deserved something... Sweet."

Alicent's lips twitched, always knowing in her heart that you were too good for Aemond - too good for this wreck of a family. When Mykal returned, he carried a decorated platter of lemon cakes and set it in the middle of the cleared-away table. You stood.

"What are they?" Aegon asked with an unsure curled lip.

"Lemon cakes," you smiled, "a confection of my own invention made especially for my husband, hmm?" You served a small, personal cake to each family member using saucer platters. "Please, just try it - tell me what you think."

You placed the final cake in front of your husband, grinning and taking your seat again. You knew he hated the spotlight, it gave him anxiety; so, you tried to do your best by acknowledging his nameday without needing to fuss over him. He always liked that you two celebrated privately, but being a "special event", the family had dinner together that night and you thought it a great time for the tart dessert to debut. You dwelled in anticipation as your in-laws all tried their cakes, Aemond feeding you every other bite from his fork as there came a chorus of satisfying hums and groans of approval.

"Holy Mother," Otto chuckled, instantly forking another bite in his mouth. "Mh, mh, mh, wow," he smacked his lips, nodding in impression. "You invented this?" He asked, watching you nod. "You invented a new cake..."

"For Aemond's nameday, yes," you confirmed, tone a little sharper than usual in an effort to make your point.

"I gotta admit, Y/N," Aegon spoke with a full mouth, a few crumbs flying, "this is bloody delicious."

"It really is," Alicent agreed, offering her husband a bite. "Viserys? Love? It's a lemon cake, here, try a bite."

"A what?" Viserys wheezed in confusion. "N-Never heard of l-lemon cake."

"They're new," she explained, "Y/N made them for Aemond's nameday. Isn't that special? Try a bite, love, there you go."

Viserys accepted the bit of cake on Alicent's fork, wincing gently at the tart taste before, too, humming. "'S good," he whispered, looking drained of energy.

"Gotta make these more often," Aegon pointed his fork at the cake crumbles left. He continued, "Like, bring these to every banquet we host and this will be the star." You chuckled and put another cake on his plate, it being instantly torn into.

You smiled at Aemond, "Guess they're a hit."

He leaned down to affectionately press his lips to your forehead for a long moment, mumbling, "Knew they would be."

"So, does this mean I can bake you cakes now? Every nameday? You won't complain?" You asked, tangling his hand with yours and relishing in the way he squeezed.

"Oh, he'll still complain," Helaena giggled, licking icing from her finger, "no matter what."

Aemond smirked at his sister, offering a subtly jab at his family, "I would never complain about being loved. Besides," he offered you a fond, softening look, "she does it so well, wouldn't you say?"

The family hummed in agreement, not truly paying attention to his words - all enraptured with scraping their saucer platters clean. You smiled up at him, letting his lips find yours in a brief show of emotion.

Otto mused, "You know, I've heard it said, 'the love of a good woman will echo through lifetimes'. I think food is a surefire way to ensure that legacy of love, respect, consideration..."

For the next few weeks, you spent more and more time in the kitchens; whipping out batches of lemon cakes to offer the Keep's staff after rumors spread of your cakey goodness. You gifted guards, trainers, tutors, members of court, maids, the castle's servants the newly invented confection. It quickly became the most talked about topic in King's Landing; the citizens being obsessed with your cake and demanding a taste of their own.

In fact, Viserys was so pleased by the turn of events that on one of his rare good days, he consulted Otto. "A bakery for Y/N - would it be worth the purchase? Do you think the Crown should fund the purchase?"

Otto considered, "Well, since her cakes are the hottest commodity currently, I'd say, yes, Your Grace, it'd be worth exploring as a new revenue for the Crown."

"No, no, not for the Crown t'collect from - leave it for Aemond and Y/N to share. This is not to be a business we collect the profits from - but rather, something they might enjoy." Viserys tried to smile, deciding, "Make it happen, Otto, my friend."

"Your Grace?"

"I want - I want her to have a bakery. Where she might sell her baked goods as she sees fit, not as an extension of the Crown, she deserves it. All her hard work," the King wheezed, coughing violently.

"Of course, Your Grace."

Yet when you were informed about your new business venture and shown the building that was to be your bakery, you told Otto that you didn't bake for money and having your own business would be terribly redundant. Yet Otto insisted that you made your own rules and if you wanted to charge, you could, but Viserys wanted you to have a designated safe space to create in.

Upon the grand opening, you were a SMASH hit. The line in your bakery was nonstop and extended out the door; the Gold Dragons overflowing enough for you to restock your ingredients tenfold AND have leftovers to funnel back into the orphanages. People talked, they spread word and rumor, and most patrons had heard through the "grape vine" that your bakery was well worth any wait. Being so popular, you required extra hours baking and only opened about three days a week because you still had your other job.

Speaking of, you obviously still worked with the orphans; in fact, some of them even came to hang out in the bakery! No, they didn't help bake unless they asked to specifically mix the icing or something, because you didn't believe in exploiting child labor. Anyways, on certain days, you closed the bakery and brought all the cakes to the orphanage to distribute, always having a warm heart when the kids giggled while eating the little sweet treat. It inspired you to write down the recipe you invented and every trip you took to help kids find their placement, you brought them recipe cards.

"Here," you handed the card over to the guardian agreeing to care for the kids, "this is just a recipe for a cake and I promise it's really simple to follow. It'll be a familiar taste to them when living here, somewhere unfamiliar for now." You sniffled, offering a watery smile, "Just wanted them to have a piece of home."

The volunteer guardians were usually grateful, knowing baking these cakes could be a form of bonding between them and the kids. It was difficult trying to get these types of kids to open up after all they endured on the streets before your orphanage took them in. Maybe a little cake would help mend those wounds and assure them, while here, they were safe.

You never expected to live out through history, but while names are lost, stories altered, and family names become obsolete, cuisine is a universally shared experience that transcends time.

Sansa sat for a moment, stewing in the story. Never had she imagined such a history lesson surrounding her favorite dessert; she would've thought some old granny would've been messing around in the kitchens to invent such a treat. Not a Princess of the Realm, especially one belonging to the most fearsome and longest reigning monarchy in Westerosi history.

For a brief moment, she was jealous by the description of your relationship to Prince Aemond; hearing how loving your husband was, how supportive and kind to you. She wondered if she'd ever experience something like that - and if she'd ever meet someone who would take her nameday as seriously as you took your husband's.

"What happened after?" She asked quietly, taking a long sip of her wine. "To the Prince and Princess, I mean?"

The maid shrugged meekly, "Not too long after, the Dance of Dragons started and there was no time or reason to bake anymore. They both perished in the flames of war, unfortunately, becoming victims of the Princess Rhaenyra - Aemond's older half-sister."

"Mh," Sansa nodded, "I've heard of her. Maegor with Tits, they called her."

The maid nodded, finishing, "But, you see, Your Grace, the recipe was already spread around the Realm and to this day, is still being used."

The room was silent for a long moment.

"All that," she stabbed her lemon cake with her fork and lifted the bite to her eye for examination, "just because she loved a man and wanted to give him what he's never had before."

"Perhaps, Your Grace, that is why nameday cakes are now tradition. They say the love of a good woman will echo through lifetimes, Your Grace."

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

#aemond targaryen #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen x f!reader #aemond targaryen x female!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd #prince aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #house of the dragon hbo #hbo house of the dragon #hbo hotd #aemond fluff

[darkestspring]

headcanon to aemond obsessed with his half sister (daughter of Aemma and Viserys), please

you were the king and late queen's second daughter, born five years after your sister rhaenyra.

You had been dubbed The Realm's Joy. A nickname you never really paid attention to. You were the apple of the people’s eyes. You were a young girl with all the kindness in the world mixes with the softest tone.

For all intents and purposes, you were a kind girl who loved those around her and none was loved more than your mother. Your sister was rebellious and brave, you were soft and sweet, like your mother. You spent most of your time reading with your head in your mother’s lap as you took in all the teachings both she and your septa gave you.

you were a mere two years old when your mother died, and you would not understand until you were older why Rhaenyra and your father cried with you when you sobbed out for your mother. you didn’t understand why they were simply hug you when you cried out for your mother. Your mother was gone, you would never see her again, only in memories and dreams.

It was only a few months later that your father would remarry, urged by the council using your name in this method (the young princess needs a mother, otto hightower had confided in your father, she is merely two years old. She needs a gentle hand to guide her from a child to a full fledged princess.) and your father had chosen a lady who had shown him kindness, he was confident that she would raise you well beside him.

The news of her best friend marrying her father had come as a shock to rhaenyra, especially as she saw you babble sleepily into her father’s shoulder before you were handed over to Alicent. Their new stepmother.

As you grew a year older, only a few months after you turned four years old, your younger brother Aegon was born. A boy that shared your features, white hair and purple eyes. A boy that you adored. Even as a child who’s time was monopolized by her older sister, who could not bring herself to like Aegon, and her father, who adored her and her sister above all, she loved her younger siblings, bringing them little trinkets, carrying them around and playing with them.

You had picked out the egg for Aegon’s crib, much to Alicent’s gratitude and Otto’s approval. You had done the same for Helaena, Aemond and even Daeron.

you were seven years old when Aemond was born and you had cared for him above all. Nine year old Aegon had pouted restlessly as you held baby Aemond in your arms as you sang to him in high valyrian.

With all the care you gave Aemond, it wasn’t strange that he totted after you, hating to leave your side, something that pleased Alicent and Otto incredibly. In their minds, with all your care towards them, you would side with Aegon once your father died.

Even if you were oblivious to it all as you focused on your own studies and caring for your family, changes were brewing. It was certain when rumors sprung that Rhaenyra and Daemon had been spotted in a whore house. Then Rhaenyra was engaged to your cousin, Laenor. You had opted to stay behind with Alicent, as boats made you sick. She had appreciated your care. A sweet girl you were. You had been there when the declaration had been made, your step mother, caring and loving and kind, entered in a green dress, in contrast to her usual red dresses. You had looked at your sister with a confused look, being only eleven years old and she had been quick to soothe you.

even as you grew from a young child, to a young princess, more children were born. your nephew, jacaerys, and your younger brother, daeron, were both born when you were eleven, in 114 ac. you second nephew, lucerys, born only a year later, a few weeks after your nameday, and your third nephew, joffrey, was born two years after that, you had been fourteen.

One things had not changed through the years, you remained a soft and lovely girl, the reincarnation of queen Aemma, the whispers had said as you accompanied your stepmother and half-sister on walks, as you walked with Aegon, even as you talked excitedly with Aemond as he watched you with an awed look in his eyes. You were compared to your mother especially as you carried baby Daeron in your arms.

It had all come to a head when your good aunt-cousin died in 120 AC when you were 17. You had all headed to driftmark for the funeral, you had softly spoken to your uncle of your condolences as he had patted your head gently in thanks before you moved on to drift back to your father’s side. It had worsened in the night when you had woken to commotion and drowsily walked towards a lit room to find Aemond bleeding with one closed eye in a chair and your two nephews jace and luke also bleeding.

“Aemond, Jace, Luke!” You had gasped in horror, running over to Aemond, seeing as he was the most injured. Alicent’s hand reached fro your own and your heart throbbed at seeing her teary eyes.

“Sister.” Aemond had called out, his other hand reaching out for you and you gently grabbed his hand. “Sister, i claimed Vhagar.”

You had gasped at that, smiling at him. Ever since it became clear that his egg would not hatch, you had encouraged him to claim his own dragon “I’m happy for you, brother.”

Yells and shouts had mixed together and when your sister had insisted that aemond be strictly questioned on why he referred to her sons as strongs, your brows had furrowed. Aemond had already been maimed, all he needed to do was rest.

“Father, Aemond has been mortally injured.” You injected, your face pinched together in sorrow. How could your sister insist that? “Please allow the maesters to tend to him and let him rest. The same must happen to Jace and Luke, they are also injured. Father please.” Aemond, Alicent and Otto had all stared at you. You had defended Aemond over your own sister, it was a win for the greens in their eyes.

You father, moved by your tears had agreed and the matter had been settled. Rhaenyra left to dragonstone, where she married your uncle, much to your father’s rage. You, despite Rhaenyra’s insistence that you come with her as she was her sister, returned to King’s Landing with your father and family.

You wouldn’t see her for another seven years and you grew from a beautiful seventeen year old, to a stunning twenty three year old. Your hair was always decorated with flowers, even as you took ride on Silverwing with Aemond on Vhagar not very far away.

You had been overjoyed by seeing your sister again while Aemond had been less than pleased and he had made his place in your bed like he had when he was younger, taking advantage of your comfort as he rested his head on your chest and listened to your heartbeat. It’s okay, he needs only to be patient for a little longer.

Aemond had gone to his mother and grandfather with a request. Allow me to marry my older sister, Princess [Y/N].

Alicent had been hesitant but overjoyed. Her two favorite children marrying? it would be a dream come true but Helaena was not happy in her marriage, she did not want to make the same mistake twice. Otto had agreed easily, taking the proposal to the king, who had deliriously agreed.

Aemond had gone to train as you had greeted your older sister. “Sister, Uncle.” You had smiled at them, as soft as you had always been. You were the spitting image of your mother, all soft and kind and sweet. It had pained Rhaenyra to be parted from you. She knew what sort of things Aemond was doing, going into your room and taking your things, sleeping in your bed. Following you around when you didn’t notice. Vile acts towards her beloved sister.

You had departed from her , going about your daily duties, you were not to attend the audience, by request of your stepmother and you had all too easily agreed as you spent your time in the gardens, picking flowers for your stepmother and helaena.

“Sister.” A deep voice had interrupted your time and you looked up, smiling sweetly as you made your way towards Aemond. “Father wishes to have a dinner tonight, come, I will escort you.” He held out his hand towards you but you had gestured towards the flowers.

“I will need to drop the flowers off and wash my hands free of dirt, sweet brother.” You had chuckled gently as he nodded and guided you away. It was a quick trip and then the both of you were on your way.

Everyone had looked up as you entered, your arms hooked with Aemond and he had guided you towards your seat and took his spot besides you.

It had been a dull affair until the toasts began. He rose his glass. “I’d like to raise a toast to my lovely sister, [Y/N].” He seemed satisfied as other rose their glasses as you smiled at him. “Who is to become my sister-wife by decree of our father.”

You had blinked at him, you lips parting but your father had smiled proudly at Aemond so you gently smiled as well. It would not be bad to be married to Aemond, he was kind and gentle.

Rhaenyra grit her teethas Daemon grabbed her hand gently. Alicent had stolen her mother’s place, and now Aemond was going to steal her beloved sister. Where would it end?

Aemond had seemed satisfied with the anger within the blacks as he leaned over to kiss your cheek. “I look forward to our life together, my sweet soon-to-be wife.”

#yandere house of the dragon #yandere aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon x reader #LEGIT AEMOND X OLDER SISTER IS MY FAVORITE THIS WAS FUN

[unholyhelbig]

I just want to say I'm already hooked on the beast you made me. I can't wait for the next chapter!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 2/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 5151

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Blood, fatal injuries, animal bones, mentions of death, containment, and horrible grammar because I don't proofread

[a/n: Thank you all for the overwelming support on the first chapter! I truly didn't expect that much reception. I'm going to be traveling for the next week so the next chapter might be delayed a bit]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

1917, Rural Pennsylvania

A sweeping river cut through the patch of sweetgrass on the south side of the farm. It emitted a gurgling sound that often soothed your nerves. There was a rocky clearing sandwiched between the tree line and the plain of grass that had become a perfect spot for you to settle in and read the hard-covered books you’d gotten from the corner store.

Your father would bring back any book you requested from the city during his travels. You devoured them faster than he could provide them and had read ‘Eight Cousins’ ,Lousia May Alcott’s foray into the adventures thirteen-year-old Rose, enough to nearly tear the pages from the binding.

The book itself held the clean honeyed scent of the earth, of the secluded spot that you called your own. Your muscles would thrum from loading the bales of hay into your fathers ford. Your fingers were calloused, and dirt caked around your ankle in a dark ring. All of that vanished when you cracked open the book about a girl that was so much like yourself.

It was easy to lose yourself in the paragraphs, the hum of the river sometimes lulling you to sleep. Your mother would pack you a sandwich on warm, hand-kneaded bread, usually some salted meat and mayonnaise. She’d pack sweet tea and send you on your way, knowing that you wouldn’t return to the house until you saw a flicker of a firefly.

Today, you’d fallen asleep under the sun. The book was discarded, and your forearm draped across your eyes. It was easy to drift, and easier still to dream about leaving the small dairy farm for something bigger- the very city that your father would return from with new literature and arts, and spices that made your mouth buzz with flavor.

You were in a haze when the ear-piercing scream cut through the air as if it were a natural solid. Your ears pinched at the sound, heels digging into the coarse sandy shore. Maybe it was a dream. It could have been an animal that had sunk its pointed teeth into the artery of another.

So, you waited, panting with your heart in your chest and the corner of the book barely lapped by the muddied water. And there was this sound. It was no fox caught in a trap or bovine tangled up in the barbed wire fence around the property- no, this was familiar. This was your sister.

Helena was quiet, often described as demure and borderline submissive. Despite being younger than yourself she carried a certain poise about her. Mother would often boast about how she would have no trouble finding a husband, how the boys already fawned over the child of hers that was not feral and unkempt.

Her cry was the loudest you had ever heard her and it had you on your feet, scrambling up the bank. Once past your small world of wonder, you were greeted with an endless sea of sweetgrass that was waist high in some areas.

A warm breeze created waves against the landscape, the farmhouse a small speck among the expanse of land. Your head was spinning, it was hard to track exactly where it had come from. It took another cracking screech to set you North.

Your legs pumped until you were consumed in a blind speed. You’d been renowned for your quickness, for your dedication to get from point A to point B. The kids in your town often joked that you were steadier than a steed. Not only were you the fastest in the class, but the fastest in the county according to some. Still- only a child of fifteen, and no man would want to wed someone with speed. It wasn’t a practical skill.

There was a pit deep in your stomach whirled, instinct knowing precisely where Helena was yowling from.

Jorge had gotten there at the same time you did; his brow was leaking with sweat and he panted against the hot air that surrounded you both. Your older brother was tall and lanky, serpent-like with beady black eyes and pitch hair to match your father’s. His shirt hung low against his midsection, his skin pale despite his hours in the sun working the fields.

“Stay back, y/n.” He demanded sharply.

The old well was a mere foot in front of you both but neither made the effort to move forward. The aged wooden plank that covered the stone shaft had been splintered through the middle, worn from age and weather.

Helena’s soft cries echoed up. When your father had first acquired the property, the previous owners explained that it had been boarded up after of the bulls had fallen down and snapped it’s neck. It was too large to pull out and they left it to starve and then rot.

Your father never let any of his children peer down into the well. You wondered if something had pulled Helena here, or if she had simply forgotten of it’s existence. Jorge dropped down to his knees and did a cautious crawl as if his own two feet couldn’t’ hold him anymore.

You saw the exact moment his skin became waxier, almost a gray porcelain paleness that had a green tint. He was swallowing too much, his white shirt coated in the red clay dirt.

“What?” You asked, voice breaking “What is it?”

“Go get Mama.”

It would have been easy to listen to your brother. He was the man of the house when your father wasn’t there but with him pleading for your mother, for an adult, you got a rancid taste in your mouth.

Against your better judgement you edged close enough to the abandoned well. The sun was setting in a fire-filled orange haze with enough color and angle to get a good view of the bottom; a slosh of fallen grass and rainwater, and muck, and yes; the bones of a beast once left to decay and rot in its own silence.

Your sister was wedged within the ribcage of the befallen bull, almost as if she replaced the beating heart that stopped pulsing long ago. Her hands gripped at the sun-bleached bone, knuckles nearly the same color.

It took you a moment to make out the slick, and the red that stemmed from the center of her stomach. The head of the bull had shattered under her weight, all expect the stretching length of it’s curved horn. That was wedged through her abdomen, surrounded in a vibrant rose red that puddled and had already coated her hands.

Prints from her struggle were against the limestone edges of the well. Her eyes pleaded up at you; your kind and caring, and animal-loving sister was trapped inside the remains of one. You fought back the urge to vomit, the rash thought that if the bone ripping through her flesh didn’t kill her, then infection would.

“Y/n get mama!” Jorge hissed again, and this time you didn’t hesitate. You nearly tripped over your own boots with the fever it took to back away from the scene, the metallic scent of blood mixing deliciously with the turn of rotted soil.

You had never run so fast in your life.

Wanda Maximoff had never felt the cold that wormed its way to her bones before. It was the type of cold that almost wasn’t, a stinging, horrible feeling that had her startled from the folded metal chair. It collapsed within itself as the blinked the wine-dark color from her eyes.

She stumbled backward, only to be brought back to the starkness of the room by a soft grip on her elbow. Wanda allowed herself to be held, if not for stability but for comfort. Steve Rodgers had a welcoming hand on the small of her back, the other steadying her.

He was a solid force, and her reaction stirred him.

“Fuck,” the expletive fell from her lips, “Jesus Christ.”

There was quietness to the room in the aftershock of the fallen chair. It was nicer than a standard holding cell. The walls were cream colored, triple enforced to keep people like you inside. There was a bed bolted to the wall, a bunk that was almost like a summer camp endeavor.

A charged glass wall was blocking you from the rest of the world. It was seemingly unbreakable, and in this moment, so were you. Wanda didn’t want to test the glass, nor did she know how to make sense of the memories- your memories- that had flooded every inch of her body.

You were asleep, chest rising and falling at a normal pace, as if none of what Wanda had just seen was flitting around your mind. Soft snores pushed past your lips, one arm hanging over the side of the bed while the other followed the flow of your breathing as it rested on your chest.

Wanda didn’t understand the secrecy and the precaution that surrounded you. The Avengers compound was a constant ebb and flow of different heroes, Inhumans and mutants. What made you so different? What made you an 0-8-4?

It was a term that Natasha had used only once that was usually attached to objects, not a person. It was an object of unknown origin and in that case, it was a power-filled object from space. Space. She’d been through different dimensions, but that, for some reason, struck her as terrifying.

0-8-4’s were never brought here, but then again, they’d never been alive either. Steve had told her that your energy signal was off the charts, and that they wanted her to dig around your head. Something that she denied doing at first. It was an invasion of privacy.

But, there was a certain pleading within Captain America’s eyes that scared Wanda more than the personal rules she set for herself when it came to her power. What she had seen, what she had felt was barely scraping the surface of what your mind contained. She wasn’t keen on pushing past that barrier for the conclusion of that story. Was it even yours?

“What? Wanda, what is it?”

“I… I don’t” She shook her head, eyes hardening as she stared into Steve’s “Where did you find her?”

He hesitated to answer, his eyebrows furrowing before he looked away from the witches’ prying eyes. She’d been part of this team for years now and they were still reluctant with what they were willing to share. Wanda clenched her jaw, then unclenched it before her stare flashed back to your resting form.

There was a small frown that creased your features. You looked so… harmless. You had shifted, folded into yourself as if you were scratching the surface of what flashed before her. Your arm was folded under your head, knees flush to your chest. A small, beautiful whimper escaped you.

“She’s in distress, Steve.”

“Discomfort, more like. It’s better for all of us that she stays in there for right now. The last thing we want to do is harm anyone but if that requires some temporary-“

“Imprisonment?”

“Containment.” He said firmly, eyes hard. Wanda crossed her arms over her chest but stayed silent, letting him continue. She was sure she wouldn’t have been asked if not for her ability to worm her way into minds, to rearrange things. “What did you see?”

“A memory, one that can’t possibly be hers. The timeline doesn’t fit, this is a woman in her mid-twenties and who I saw was barely a teenager on a farmstead. To experience that much tragedy, that much fear and heartache.”

She started to pace, trying to not only work through her own thoughts, but yours as well. It could have been a story, and she was convinced of the fact save for the vividness. There was the feeling of grass tickling her arms and the sharp, undeniable stench of blood.

“Her younger sister died, fell through some rotted wood and fell to her death.” Wanda’s fingers pressed against the edge of her hairline. “She could have lived, but I have my doubts.”

He lifted a perfectly sculpted brow at her. His expression betrayed his compassion towards you, his stance uncomfortable with the topic. While the revelation was heartbreaking it hardly made you extraordinary. They’d all lost people, none had stirred Wanda as you did.

Wanda’s stare found his after darting to you once more, “Steve, I have the sinking feeling that what I saw was only scratching the surface. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of memories that were pressing in on all sides.”

The sensation of being observed is what pulled you from your fitful sleep. Exhaustion had washed over you like a tidal wave, all at once and leaving your mouth dry like a spoonful of salt. There was a stiffness that rivaled that of the grave you’d crawled out of, and you hoped that it was all a dream.

You were in your bed, in your apartment, after having one too many drinks. It was a horrible stretching nightmare that had plunged you into one sea of darkness from another. But even you weren’t that naïve.

Just as you felt a stranger’s eyes on you now, you had felt the dirt under your nails, the cold sodium-filled takeout as you attempted to chew it. More than anything, you remembered the burning feeling of the Black Widow pressed fully against your back, bending you over Jenn’s kitchen counter.  

“I would prefer if you kept the feeling of my wife’s body against yours out of your mind.”

You shot up with a dizzying amount of quickness, heart suddenly in your chest. There was an imbalance to the bed that you were laying on. It was smaller than your own and unfamiliar. The room was stark white. It hurt your eyes and you had to blink the color away. You pressed the heels of your palms close to your eyes.

It felt as if you were locked in a glass shower with an audience and stage lights. The more you looked, the more you realized it was a room, something with no personal effects but a bed and a dimmer switch that you itched to utilize.

A pitcher of water was on an end table. It wasn’t color exactly, but it was more than the rest of your surroundings. Possibly with the worst manners you’d ever exhibited, you drank straight from the pitcher, not remembering the last time you had a drink. Suddenly, you were parched enough to soak your collar.

Despite your audience, you continued until you felt your stomach protest. You used the back of your hand to wipe away the moisture, black dirt was smeared across your skin. It was then, and only then, that you forced yourself to look past the walls of your prison, your enclosure.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” The woman said, walking close to the glass. You could see her clearly now, there was an heir of recognition about her, in the same way that there had been with the Black Widow.

“You were in my head.”

“For a while. It’s my job. But your thoughts are also deafening.”

“Sorry,”

This woman was intoxicating. Alluring and beautiful in her presence. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt hugging her form. You weren’t positive what time it was- what day it was- but it could be late into the night. She looked like she was roused from sleep, and a part of you felt guilty for the fact.

“Don’t apologize, sweetie.” Her voice was much more tender than it had been a few moments ago. “You can’t control being brought back from the dead. A lot of trauma comes with that.”

You stood shakily and walked closer to the glass. They’d taken your shoes and the tile under your feet was frigid. You crossed your arms over your chest and shivered into yourself. You didn’t want to think about the fact that they had undressed you, probably taken your clothes for testing. Instead they left you in a blue set of scrubs.

You averted your stare from your own reflection, not willing or ready to look too hard. You’d much rather look at this stranger, your heart not slowing, your head pounding. Nothing but a simple pane of glass separated you.

“And I was brought back from the dead, wasn’t I? That wasn’t a fucked-up dream where I got hit by a car and then poof God, if there is one, decided that me of all people was worth bringing back.”

She lilted her head, quirked an amusing brow at you. A chill flushed down your spine and seemed to fizzle out at your toes. This woman was gorgeous and terrifying and made you want to squirm. But if this was prison, you had to assert dominance. Right? That’s what Wentworth taught you.

This cell didn’t look or feel like Wentworth, and this Warden had an amused smile tacked to her lips like she had heard your every thought. And she had. At least you assumed that she did. She’d mentioned her wife earlier, and the woman’s body against your own was plaguing you like a runaway freight train.

When she didn’t say anything, you clawed to fill the silence “I want to talk to Bruce.”

“Bruce? Honey, he’s off world.”

“Off… world.” You laughed, softly at first but then almost manically, tears forming in your eyes that you wiped away with your cold fingers. “No, no, that’s really cool. I worked a 9-5 and now I can’t talk to Bruce because he’s in Outer Space.”

“Maybe not outer space, maybe another dimension.”

You leveled her with a humorless glare. She had both of her hands up as if she wanted to comfort you, or the caged animal you had become. You had to give her credit, she seemed just as horrified as you were. She offered up a dim, faltering smile.

There wasn’t a way for you to process this in a gentle manner, there was no one to guide you through it other than Jenn. She’d done this before, lived a whole life that was flipped upside-down and she’d come out on the other side. It was the uncertainty that scared the hell out of you.

“You were in my head earlier,” You stopped suddenly, pressing your fingers against the glass. The woman didn’t flinch. Your frantic breath fogged with each exhalation. “Do you know why I came back?”

She shook her head, “No. Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

“No.” A weak chuckle, you let your hands drop. “At least we’re on the same page.”

The nurse they allowed to enter through the side of the containment unit took cautious steps towards you that made your chest ache. All your life, people had said how welcoming and kind you were; how they were never afraid to come to you with their worries. It had bothered you before the incident, before your death, but now you missed seeing the stare of those who didn’t harbor any fear.

She was small, a mouse of a thing that had pale blonde hair and startling blue eyes. Her name tag read Julia. Your mind rushed with the paths she’d taken to this place. She must be interning here, much too young to hold a classification herself.

Your finger twitched on your knee, palm sweaty. It’s heat radiated through the thin blue fabric of the pants they’d provided you with. You hated needles, always had. But, you struggled to stay still and the effect that had on poor nurse Julia was making you fidget more.

There was a scent about her. It was under the layers of hairspray, nail polish, and shea butter. It was a sweet metal that made your stomach swirl. Was it her sweat? You’d never smelt anything past walking by the bomb that was the boys locker room, and it certainly had never been this tantalizing before.

Your eyes met hers, crystal blue and uncertain. “You’ll just feel a little pinch”

This is when you pulled your gaze back and instead focused on the cream colored walls. There was no problem with needles, you’d dutifully sit for your flu shots, but something about the sharp edge pushing through a layer of skin and fat before hitting your vein made you nauseous.

“We just need enough to run a few tests.” Julia soothed.

She was a normal nurse in that one, small way. Your mind was itching, blood seeming to congeal. It refused to cooperate and her burning touch was all but dominant against your skin. You both waited for the small tube to fill with black liquid. 

Finally, you felt her press the gauze against the crook of your arm and withdraw the needle. Another small pinch and then a massive relief. Her smell hung around you and filled the room. There was an undeniable urge to sink your teeth into her. To taste her.

You’d stopped the elevator just hours before to assess your penchant for brain consumption, but this wasn’t that. This was an intoxicating pull. This was animalistic, the same rush of emotion that had flooded you without prompting during your earlier conversation.

Julia squeezed your shoulder calmly, not entirely over her own reservations, but on the penance that she was a nurse and this was her job. You kept yourself rooted to the bed, fingers digging into the wood. She left the room and you could hear the compressed lock reseal you inside, breathing a sigh of relief.

That sweet odor lingered, and your reaction to it scared you more than anything. The wood beneath your fingertips splintered, and suddenly that anger, that fear, rolled away to shock. That wasn’t… normal. None of this was normal, but you weren’t exactly picked first in sports either.

You were a middle kid, a I guess I wouldn’t mind having you on my team kid. Suddenly your fingers were cutting through wood like it was butter. You let out an indignant squeak and shifted the blanket until the slashes were covered.

“Is everything alright?”

Wanda, you had learned that her name was Wanda, occupied her usual spot in front of the window. A slick sweat covered your forehead. She was holding a small tray that had a steaming bowl of soup and a delicious hunk of French bread.

“I figured you were hungry,” She lifted her chin towards the panel next to your door. “May I?”

“I’m at your mercy.”

And you were, truly. You hadn’t seen anyone but her since you’d woken up. There were shadows of others, people that made the pit in the center of your stomach grow three sizes. You knew exactly what they were doing, you watched enough true crime with Jennifer to know.

Here was this beautiful and powerful woman offering you food and words of comfort, and you allowed yourself to fall for all of it. Listlessly. Because what did you have to lose? You’d already died, and the thought of putting your family through the heartache of resurrection and then possibly enough committal to the ground was too much.

So, let her Stockholm syndrome you. The food smelled divine.

Wanda didn’t hold the same fear that Julia had. In fact, once the compression of air signified that it was okay for her to enter, she did so without hesitation. She set the food down on the equally dull side table and lowered herself onto the corner of the bed, making herself at home.

She’d changed into a pair of jeans, a simple t-shirt that had the outline of SHIELD on its sleeve. You frowned, for a company that does everything in its power to keep itself hidden, they sure loved that stupid bird so much.

“Go on, sweetie. You can eat.”

Wanda had a command about her that made you fold and listen despite any reservations. You took up a spot on the far end of the bed and shoveled the first spoonful into your mouth. An explosion of heady flavors coated your tongue, coaxing a low moan from your lips.

Blush rushed to your cheeks at the spark in the set of stormy eyes that watched you like a hawk. You rushed to break the tension. “So, what’s the plan here? Run a bunch of tests and keep me locked up?”

“Somewhat.” She paused, carefully thinking of her next words. “Y/n, I have the ability to get inside the psyche. Not only can I read every thought, every action, but I can control them too. It’s not something I like to do, nor something I want to. Not without permission.”

You frowned again. You certainly hadn’t given her permission to enter your mind before, and she tensed at the realization. But, you took another bite of soup and swallowed down the spiced broth. What’s done was done. You didn’t expect her to ask, much less admit to her wrongdoing.

“I prefer to ask. Can you tell me what you do for work?”

“Paralegal, the bar seemed like too much stress. But I’m good at my job. I was good at my job before a car turned me into sidewalk art.”

“Right, and your family, what about them?”

There was no desire to think of them and their perfect lives that you’d shattered with your death. Your mother used to sit in the tepid air on the porch swing, downing a glass of wine before she turned to you with tears in her eyes. She’d urge you to be careful working in the city. She’d plead for you to come home. More than anything, she’d utter the phrase a mother should never outlive her daughter.

“My mother is a seventh grade biology teacher and my father runs a painting business that’s been operating my whole life. They’re not very exciting people. They must be worried sick about me.”

Wanda nodded, “Any siblings?”

“Not anymore.”

She stilled at your words and didn’t pry. You were well aware of the fact that she could push through your deflections and learn the information that she wanted to know. But, you respected that she didn’t. Instead, she stared at you, and you stared right back, suddenly not hungry.

Wanda was someone that you felt the need to open-up to. Unlike the brief encounter you had had with her wife. Not that you let that word stick with you, not in the same way that her touch did. Again, you had to push the thoughts to the back of your mind, even if Wanda wasn’t prying.

Instead, she placed a warm hand on your thigh, sending a wave of shivers through your body. You suppressed a whimper at the sudden contact.

“I had a brother named Pietro. He was fast, unnaturally so. Neither of us ever wanted to be heroes, we didn’t think about the future like that. So, when the Avengers, these so-called saviors of the world, recruited us, we knew about the dangers. But it still shocked me when he died. He was my brother. He wasn’t supposed to be fragile like that.”

You stared at her with an amount of tenderness in your eyes that she wasn’t used to from the others. They cared, sure, but in the way that a co-worker would care enough to purchase cut flowers and a ‘sorry for your loss’ card. You were different.

“They’re our protectors.” You swallowed hard, mouth dry “when something drastic happens, it doesn’t seem real.”

“It still doesn’t.”

There was a lapse of silence that pushed memories in your direction. The burning cold weather on the day your own brother had died. You remember the scream that died in your throat and the way you’d knelt in the cracked snow until you couldn’t’ feel your legs or your fingers. It took an EMT with a heated blanket and a horror story about hypothermia to pull you to your feet.

“Jonathan.” You whispered.

She let out a questioning hum, pulling her feet from the floor and making herself more comfortable on the less-than-comfortable bed. “Your brother?”

“My older brother. I followed him around like a lost puppy, but he never complained. He was a hockey player and a damn good one too. He’d use the lake behind our house in Jersey to practice and one winter the ice broke underneath him. He drowned, and I was too weak to save him.”

Wanda let out a shuddered breath. You couldn’t read her facial expression. It was a mix of confusion, or sadness, but not pity and that was something you appreciated. You’d had enough pity, just as your family had enough grief without you adding to it.

She opened her mouth to reply, but both of you were startled when three quick knocks shattered the silence. The Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, stood on the other side. She showed no interest in breeching the containment unit. Instead, she leveled her wife with a dark stare and held up a folded piece of paper.

“Excuse me,” Wanda whispered, giving your leg a settling squeeze.

She left the plate and exited the holding cell. Her words were muffled, but those unripe green eyes that Natasha possessed kept flicking to you nervously. She too, didn’t’ show pity. It was interest and if you were being honest, you thought you saw the smallest spark of fear.

Wanda took the paper from her wife, squinted at something you couldn’t’ see. You felt like you were at a parent teacher conference, just out of bounds of hearing but you could see their body language; the way that Natasha itched to move closer to Wanda, the fingers that the taller woman pressed to her lips, thumb creasing the paper.

Finally, Wanda turned back towards the glass. Natasha met your stare without issue, hitting the intercom on the other side of the cell. It was her who spoke, her raspy voice falling from the speaker.

“In the spirit of transparency, we want to be honest with you about your blood results.”

You stood from the bed, moving to one side of the barrier. They were intimidating like that, standing shoulder to shoulder with a natural beauty. It made you want to shrink. If not for the paper in their hands you would have curled into yourself at the sight.

“Don’t tell me I’m dying.”

“No, honey.” Wanda shook her head, “Quite the opposite, you’re getting stronger.”

“I don’t understand.”

Natasha lifted an eyebrow and pressed the paper against the glass so you could read it. None of it made sense, it was lines of DNA that looked like musical notes. You shook your head, giving her a confused look.

Natasha scoffed, peeling the paper from the surface of glass. Wanda bit her thumbnail nervously. “According to these…You’re Asgardian, Kitten.”

[Taglist💕: @dannipotatoo, @non-binary-frogking, @mysticalmoonlight7, @metanoiablxxm, @coxlong, @b3nzzzzz, @simpforlizzie, @delulu-bayolet-era, @dorabledewdroop, @crescentcrush, @roselockwood, @ellieromanov, @leenasayeed, @theowlappears, @pitifulbinx, @pepemyfantasy, @tekanparadiae, @skittlebum, @mariabeloskivismyoc, @natsbiggestfan1, @marvelwomen-simp, @cinffy23, @kyky-maximoff, @natalierushmansstuff, @bstvst, @lezzylover, @404-almostdone, @mishimrno, @maxidentbby, @shayarshucky, @merlinsouls, @neothepotato]

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanov #Wanda Maximoff #scarlet witch #black widow #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanov x you #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Natasha Romanov x reader #Wanda Maximoff x you #Wanda Maximoff x reader #Wanda maximoff x y/n #Wandanat #Wandanat x reader #Wandanat x you #Wandanat x y/n #Marvel

[acey-wacey]

i’m a newer twst fan and came across your account while scrolling through tumblr and really liked your first year “meeting their future children” hcs ! May i request the same for all of the dorm leaders ? Or just Malleus, Azul and Leona as they’re my fav dorm leaders ^^ its okay if not , i hope u have a good day/night regardless !

I love these headcanons and I have already planned out the baby names for all the characters future children!!!!

...

🐲 Malleus Draconia 🐲

It was late at night and you were taking your usual evening walk with Malleus.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, admiring the scenery of the campus peacefully.

At least it was peaceful before a little girl ran up to you and hid behind your leg, closely followed by two older boys.

"Mama, tell Killian to stop being mean!" the girl cried.

"I barely even touched you!" the shorter boy replied.

"He's pulling on my horns!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Hey!" you yelled, quieting the children.

You were quite used to wrangling kids at this point *cough* Grim *cough* so it didn't take more than a stern look to make them behave.

"Who are you kids anyway? Where are your parents?"

The three kids looked at each other in confusion.

"You're right there, mama. If we're playing hide and seek, you're not very good at it," the oldest boy said, confused but playful.

You perked up upon realizing he called you Mama.

You also noticed just then how strikingly similar that boy looked to Malleus.

All three children had dark horns just like the dragon fae but the girl and youngest boy had a hair color and texture more similar to your own.

"They're... Our children?" Malleus questioned, amused.

It wasn't the weirdest magical phenomenon he had witnessed in his years but it was definitely the best to him, considering how you became very flustered at the prospect of having children with him.

"It seems our timelines have gotten muddled. Would you mind introducing yourselves?" Malleus bent down to look the children in the eye.

The oldest beamed and stood up tall.

"I'm Adonis, he's Killian, and Agape is the baby!"

"You're adorable!" You cooed, patting each of them on the head.

You didn't notice Malleus gazing at you lovingly, quite enjoying the quiet domestic moment.

That glimpse of the future fueled his fantasies for many dreams to come.

...

🐙 Azul Ashengrotto 🐙

It was more than a shock when Jade called you to come to the Mostro Lounge only to find Azul playing with two little girls.

He lit up when you walked in, only to curl in on himself in embarrassment.

"Y/N, this is Claire and Mia Ashengrotto," he shyly introduced the two girls who waved enthusiastically.

"Your little sisters?"

"Nope."

"Cousins?"

"Uh-uh."

"Nieces?"

"For Seven's sake! They're your daughters from the future, Y/N! Keep up!" Floyd interrupted, sick of Azul's bashfulness.

"Our... daughters?"

"Mum!"

The two girls jumped off of Azul's lap to run to you.

They each hugged one of your legs with the younger one jumping up for you to pick her up.

You obliged and bounced her on your hips while she giggled.

Azul's embarrassment only grew as you smiled so lovingly at the little girl that shared his hair color and the pudginess from his childhood.

He told you how much he wanted to meet the little girls again in the future, but he forgot that he had yet to ask you out.

...

🦁 Leona Kingscholar 🦁

It wasn't a great surprise to find Leona napping, but he wasn't usually joined by two little boys.

The boys woke up first and were delighted to see you.

"Imma!"

The older boy, who looked about 11, sat up and reached for your hand. You took it, though you were very confused.

"Abba already told us that you won't know who we are. I'm Amir! Arlow, introduce yourself."

The younger boy rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned, his baby fangs showing and reminding you of a certain other beastman.

"I'm Arlow. Hi, Imma."

You giggled at the sleepy little boy and sat down on the bed.

"So you are the children of me and Leona, I suppose?"

"Mhm."

"Wouldn't be the worst husband in the world, I guess."

"I heard that."

You were startled by Leona suddenly speaking.

He had one eye cracked open and a lazy smirk on his face.

"You wouldn't be the worst spouse either, Y/N."

He chuckled, leaving you a blushing mess.

You refused to let him fluster you too much so you retorted.

"Are you sure you would want to marry a nasty herbivore like me?"

"Wouldn't doubt it for a second."

You were about to sputter back a rebuttal but Amir interrupted you with a tug on your arm.

"Imma, stop flirting and come cuddle with us!"

"Yeah, Imma."

Leona smirked at you and snuggled into the bed, an arm around both boys on either side of him.

You laid down next to Arlow, who turned to snuggle into your shoulder.

You guessed it wouldn't be that bad to marry Leona, but only because you want to see Amir and Arlow again obviously.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #disneytw #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Lookalike (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Inside the highest tower of the Red Keep, lives a girl with long silver hair...

Warnings: Oh man. What a trip. Rapunzel, innocence kink, daddy issues, cursing, mature language. Light groping, kissing. Daemon, and all his usual warnings. Manipulation. I tried to make it whimsical. You know, a fairy tale.

Requested: Yup. For the bingo. Daemon + retelling of another story. Posted it early because I couldn't sleep last night so I stayed up finishing this.

Once upon a time, in a far away land called Westeros, lived a King and a Queen. The Queen was a beautiful woman, with hair made of spun silver and gold.

The King and the Queen had a daughter, a bright girl called Rhaenyra. They loved her deeply, but as many powerful men behind him, the King could not help but wish for a son.

When the Queen had carried Rhaenyra, her pregnancy had been harsh. She had struggled to fall with child, and when she had, she had been sick the whole time. The Queen was not too sure if she could withstand another pregnancy.

“My love, I need my heir.” The King said to her. “You must help me and try again.”

“But husband, you know we cannot. The Maester said pregnancies were too rough on me."

“If I can't have my heir, I fear I will lose my throne!”

So the Queen decided to try again. Soon, she was with child. Yet, the Queen could feel something was different, this time. She got twice as large as she was when she was carrying Rhaenyra, her body ached even more. Only the hottest baths could soothe her abundant pains.

“This pregnancy is not normal, not normal at all.” Said the Maester, when examining the Queen. “I fear the delivery will be hard.”

And hard it was. For there was not one baby but two. A girl and a boy, a moon and a sun. The parents only found out when the Queen was unable to deliver the baby, and the King, believing it to be his precious heir, ordered the Maester to cut her open.

Wailing into the world they came, shrieks so loud they rose half the Red Keep. Every bell in the city was toiling for them. The King named his heir Baelon. The girl, the little moon, was forgotten. That was you.

Too young to know it then, your first hours were spent in your sister's arms, both of you forgotten in favor of the new heir. But it was barely hours at all when your little brother passed away.

At the funeral, the King was the picture of despair. His Queen was dead by his hand, his heir lasted no longer than a day. Now a father to a baby girl he didn’t know how to care for, and an unruly maiden.

Perhaps, sensing his despair and hoping to offer some words of comfort, and Arryn cousin took you from him and gasped:

“By the Sevens! If she is the very image of Aemma as a babe.” No one took in consideration that this Arryn cousin was not, in fact, older than the Queen.

“Is she?” The King asked, on the verge of tears. Your father could not stop remembering your mother’s face, as the Maester aided your entrance into the world. Her cries haunted him even in his sleep. He was turning into a decaying corpse, from inside out, guilt rotting him alive. “Rhaenyra, come here.”

“Father?”

“Does she look like your mother?”

Your sister squinted at you. You yawned, a toothless, sweet thing. Rhaenyra wasn't very knowledgeable about babes, but she liked you. You had grabbed into her finger the first time you had seen her, tiny fingers turning into the most adorable rings.

“She has her beauty.” She answered, politely. The King hummed, an idea sparkling into his head. Soon, the highest tower in the Red Keep was being repurposed, and the Hand relocated.

Nine and ten years later, that brings us to you, in a continent named Westeros. Inside it, Seven Kingdoms. Inside them, a city called King's Landing. Inside the city is a castle. In the castle, a tower. In the tower is a room. In the room, a girl. You.

You stared at your reflection, squaring your shoulders. You gave yourself a big smile.

“Father, I want to try claiming a dragon.” You repeated to the mirror, before shaking your head. “No, no. Too disrespectful. Lord Father, I was wondering if I could go and try to claim a dragon?”

The reflection did not answer. You frowned. You didn't like groveling, but you weren't too sure of what else you could do. Perhaps, sending him a note would be better.

As the youngest sister of the heir to the Iron Throne, you had led a sheltered life. Even more so, as the spitting image of his late wife, according to your father. When looked in the right light, your eyes were the same shade hers had been. And the way you spoke did resemble the short, clipped speech of the Vale.

No one dared question those things, even though your accent had been ensured by your father by providing you with tutors only from that region. The King was very protective of you, set on expiating his guilt over the death of your mother by ensuring your safety.

All of your care had been provided by him after her death. Viserys knew nothing about child-rearing, but refused to let any servant touch you beyond the wet nurse. You grew into a child, and your father didn't even know how to cut your long, silver hair.

Years passed, and soon you learned to take care of yourself. Used to long hair as you were, you never thought about cutting it. Instead, your mind was preoccupied with more urgent matters. For example, how could you get out of the Red Keep.

Sometimes, your father's protection turned overbearing. Unlike your older sister, you were not allowed to leave the castle. Nor had you been allowed to partake in the activities other young ladies did. The only way you had managed to know the world around you had been through your books and observations.

Your rooms were in the tallest tower in the Red Keep, ensuring you would be kept safe from intruders and even invaders, if such a thing ever came to pass. You had double the guards Rhaenyra and Viserys did. Instead of providing his new Queen with a sworn shield, he had chosen to devote all the Kingsguard to you.

While you knew your tower had been used for other things before, it had clearly been refurnished. Now, it worked as a castle of its own, inside which you had a tiny kitchen, bathing quarters, rooms, and a library. The idea was that you would never need anything outside it. A tiny universe, just for you. You had plenty of space for your books and trinkets, but it made for a lonely existence.

Each time there were unknown men roaming the Keep, you got sent back to your tower. Your father didn't like the idea of you being married off or corrupted by them. You were too precious, too good. He had said that when the day came, he would find you a good match. One that, you suspected, would keep you close to home. Perhaps Aegon, or one of your cousins in the Vale.

If you married at all, of course. Your father had gone through a phase of encouraging your faith in the Seven, in the hopes of you deciding to be a Septa. If you did, the King would be most pleased, for it would mean you would never suffer the same fate as your mother.

You wanted neither. What you wanted more than anything was to see the world, do the things Rhaenyra told you happened outside the Red Keep. And according to you, it would all get started if you got your own dragon.

With a dragon, you would be protected. Your father always used your lack of one as an argument for denying you the experiences ladies your age had. Your egg had not hatched, but if you claimed one, you would surely be allowed to leave.

Unfortunately, what was required to be able to bond with a dragon had been deemed too dangerous for you. King Viserys had banned you from the dragon pit, arguing that dragons could be unpredictable.

Today, you had been sent back to your tower due to an impromptu visit from your Uncle Daemon. You knew the man by reputation only, by how much he angered your father. If there was one person who you were prohibited from speaking to, it was him.

You had heard the rumors, of course. A few years back, after your mother's passing, he had taken Rhaenyra to a pleasure house. Whatever had happened inside was between her and him. To your father, though, it was enough to keep you away from him.

Smile. Square your shoulders. Try again to assert yourself. You eyed your reflection once again, wondering how you could convince the King to let you try to get a dragon. Outside, something scraped against a rock, again and again. Curious, you went to the window.

On the very base of your tower, there was a man hopelessly attempting to climb upwards. He was very dashing, sporting the same silver hair you did, only much shorter.

“Who are you?” You asked, slightly frightened. In truth, you were not used to strangers being so close to you. Your father always said men were dangerous, and that outside the Red Keep there were aberrant creatures, mean and ruthless, that hurt young maidens for their enjoyment. “Step away from my tower, or I shall call my guards!”

The man ignored you, choosing instead to stab a sword between the rocks that made up your tower. You screamed, alarmed.

“Stop that! That's not allowed, you are damaging my tower.”

The man ignored you, trying to use his sword to climb. He grunted in exertion. You ran towards your chambers and filled a jar with water. Then, you ran back to your window and dumped it on his head.

The man shrieked and fell down the few meters he had managed to progress. You laughed, startled.

“Aren't you a fearsome thing?” He muttered to himself. Then, he looked up at you, with the most purple eyes you had ever seen. “Please, Princess. Help me out.”

“Why should I? You are an intruder.” You glared down at him, not even entertaining the notion, but deciding to play along regardless. In truth, you were curious about him. And starved for companionship.

“I am being chased.” He screamed up at you, frantically looking behind him. “Please, help me.”

You leaned down towards your window, bracing your arms on the edge of it.

“Bad business, that.” Your voice was cheery and woefully uninterested. This was the most exciting that had happened to you in years, you were not about to stop it. But at the same time, you did remember all of your father's warnings. There were people out there that were not kind.

“Damn it, you are just like Aemma. Pair of cynics.” He cursed, and started to try to retrieve his sword. Your eyebrows raised.

“You knew my mother?”

The man looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand. He squinted at you. His bone structure reminded you of someone.

“I did.”

Your mother. A cynic. You smiled. No one had ever told you about her, not beyond all those polite things everyone said about the dead. How kind she was, how beautiful and learned. It did nothing to make you feel closer to her, these empty platitudes. They were generic, they could be talking about any woman.

Your father never went beyond that, either. The Aemma he talked about was an idolized version of her, a woman frozen into a perfect state of likeness to the Mother. He didn't allow anyone to contradict him, not even Rhaenyra. When you were younger, she had told you your mother had been hesitant about having another pregnancy, and struggling to carry another baby to term. Your father had banned her from visiting you during the next six moons.

But this stranger was speaking of her as if he knew her well. Your heart ached to know more about your mother, know the real her. It was enough to help you make your choice. You gathered your hair and threw it down the window.

“Come up then.” You ordered.

The man looked at the mass of hair in bewilderment. He touched a strand of it, fascinated by the way it picked up the light. He did not move.

“Use it as rope. You won't hurt me.” Were all men so dumb? Surely, if this one was so slow, he could not be a threat.

“Of course. Magic hair. Fucking Viserys.” The man started to climb. He got quickly inside, panting with exertion.

“You know my father, too?” Your body tensed. This, you did not like. What if he was one of the men that were supposed to visit the castle today? One of those who corrupted and hurt young maidens?

Your heart started to beat harder and harder. You tried to convince yourself he might not be a bad man. Perhaps, he had met the King through your mother. Regardless, you turned away from him, keeping your voice and posture deceivingly calm.

“Would you like some water?” You did not wait for an answer, starting to move towards the kitchen. You reached into a cabinet, as if searching for a cup.

The man followed. You could hear his footsteps on the stone floor.

“I do know your father.” His voice was strange. As if he were realizing he was making a mistake but couldn't pinpoint why. Uninterested, you took out a cup. “He is a great King.” He added, hurriedly. Just in time for you to grab a pan, turn and smack it against his head as hard as you could.

The man dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. You hiked up your skirts and rushed to his side. Kneeling by him, you took a closer look at his sword and grinned. You had seen it before. In your books. That was Dark Sister, Visenya's sword.

You had caught Daemon Targaryen. What better proof to show your father that you were not helpless? You tied him to a chair and gagged him for good measure. Then, you pushed him inside your bathing quarters. Only then did you call for a guard.

“Could you summon my father? I need him.” The guard bowed, but didn't speak. Most of them didn't. Your father said they weren't allowed to.

Despite not receiving an answer, you knew your father would be here soon. He always came when you called. You placed a kettle in the fire. Before it could boil, King Viserys was already there.

“Dear.” The King kissed your forehead. You tried not to wrinkle your nose at the smell of herbs and milk of the poppy. Your father always smelled like a medicine cabinet. “As beautiful as your mother, like always.”

You smiled.

“Father. Tea is not ready yet, but sit.” You pointed to your small parlor. When you were a child, the two of you had used to pretend you were a great lady, hosting tea parties there. It had been how he had taught you courtly manners.

The memory was bittersweet. Your father was good to you. He had raised you as best as he could, loving you more fiercely than any of his other children. It was not your intention to upset him, but you knew this topic would do exactly that.

“Were you lonely, my heart?” The King settled on one of the loveseats. You sat across from him.

“I did miss you.” You gave him a coy little look. “But I asked you to come for something else.”

“Do tell.”

“Father. I think I am ready to claim a dragon.” You rushed to say, almost tripping over your words. Already, you could see how his expression was clouding over, a storm raging behind his eyes.

“You know you are not.” The King answered, sternly. “It's too dangerous.”

“I can handle myself.” You fought for your tone to remain even. If it came out too angered, your father would say you were hysteric or having a tantrum, and refuse to take you seriously. So was the curse of being a woman.

“My heart, you have never stepped out of this tower.”

And you had not. But what did dragons care about one's knowledge of the world? You had read about dragons bonding with babes, sharing their cradle with them. To claim one, being well traveled or wise was not required. One had to be chosen, that was all.

You raised your hands in the air, palms up, as if placating a beast.

“I don't want you to get upset, Father. I wanted to prove to you that I am capable, too.” You got up and opened the door to your bathing quarters. “Do not be scared.”

The bound Daemon was still gagged, inside the tub. This time, though, he was awake. Upon seeing his brother, he immediately started screeching and squirming, making up a ruckus.

“Shh.” You said to him, kicking the tub a little. He was turning out to be a very annoying guest. “As you can see, Father, I caught him.”

“And you put him in the tub.” The King said, perplexed.

“He was dripping water all over my floors.” But your explanations fall on deaf ears, since your father has already moved on from his shock. He grabbed Daemon's shirt, forcing him to sit upright.

“Haven't I told you this tower is out of limits?” The King barked at him. “I will throw you into the deepest, more dark and humid dungeon I can find, and then I will…”

“Father.” You did not like being ignored. Daemon was a secondary concern, you just wanted to know if you were allowed out now.

Yet, your father seems to think the issue was an entirely different thing.

“Oh. Sorry, dear. What father meant is that Uncle Daemon has been very bad.” He gave him a shake for good measure.

“I can tell.” Your tone was flat. “Have I proven myself enough to be allowed to try to claim a dragon?”

The King let go of Daemon. He turned towards you and tenderly started checking you over for injuries.

“I would die if something happened to you.” He answered, evasive. You didn't need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking. It was too dangerous. It was a no.

Five more long days went by. Poor you, having to stay all day in your tower. After Daemon, your father had now deemed it too dangerous to allow you to roam the Red Keep. It was the tower and nothing more. All you could do was sing Old Valyrian songs and look out the windows. Sometimes, birds would chirp from above, and you would feel slightly better, as if they were singing with you.

Perhaps it had been your song, what had led him to you. Perhaps it had been his own guilty consciousness for a sin long forgotten, or a sliver of empathy for the lonely girl in the tower up above. Whatever it was, before the sixth day came to an end, Daemon appeared under your window.

“Princess, Princess, let your hair down.” You heard him say. You walked to your window, curiously. Daemon was back!

“Come down if you want to be free.” The Prince ordered. “I do not have much time.”

His words stilled you. Freedom. Your father often said freedom was a dangerous thing. If you let people make their own choices, it was much more likely that they would choose unwisely. That was why you were kept in the tower, safe from the world and bad decisions. As long as King Viserys controlled your life, you would be protected.

But what if you left? What if you ran, jumped out of your tower and made your way to Dragonstone to get your dragon? You imagined a version of yourself, dress fluttering in the wind like a flag as you ran, barefooted in the sand. You imagined yourself feeling the sun in your face, having your first cup of mead or watching a parade.

Then you imagined yourself tripping and falling into the sea. You didn't know how to swim. No one saw the need to teach you such a thing. You imagined yourself at the parade, getting robbed. You imagined a man, trying to hurt you. What if people out there, what if Daemon, were truly as wretched as your father said they were?

Your face must have shown your distress because Daemon, impatient, shouted something more.

“I won't hurt you.” The Prince raised his hands in surrender. “I will not tell you I am a good man, but I will take you to Dragonstone.”

His honesty was what sealed the deal. You threw your hair down, grabbed one of your warmest cloaks, and shouted for him to loop your hair around a branch and not let go.

Daemon obeyed. You jumped, and as your feet hit the floor, you wished to be able to say you didn't look back. But you did. And as you saw the silhouette of your tower getting smaller and smaller in the distance, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness deep in your chest.

Noticing how quiet you have gotten, Daemon adjusts your cloak and gives you a grin.

“Do you want to ride Caraxes?” He asks. You match his grin, sadness nearly forgotten. There is a whole world out here, begging to be explored. You can be sad later when the adventure ends.

Caraxes is the most bewitching creature you have ever seen. He is red and serpentine, looking so much like the drawings of dragons you used to do as a child. You nearly scream in excitement.

Daemon whispers to him to stay calm, but Caraxes seems to sense your happiness, for he keeps trying to correspond your loving pets.

“Oh, by the Seven Hells.” The Prince pushes you towards the saddle. “If neither of you stop the tail wagging, we are going to get caught.”

“And we don't want that.” You agree, kissing Caraxes' scales one last time.

Caraxes gives another excited, full-body wag. He seems to be preening under the attention. Daemon must not praise him very much, which is a shame.

“You are such a good boy. So pretty, too.”

Caraxes preens even more. It makes his body shake, tail hitting against the floor in an ominous beat. Daemon groans.

“Enough, enough.” The Prince grabs you by the waist and gets you up in the saddle. You shriek in laughter. Caraxes appears to be happy about it, too, since he starts spreading his wings. “We are going to get caught.”

Daemon jumps into the saddle, hugging you tightly to him. You squirm, unused to the closeness of another human being. When your father and Rhaenyra touch you, it's never like this.

Daemon feels overwhelming, in the best kind of way. His chest is firm, and his smell surrounds you. His arms around your waist hold you tight, but remain loose enough to not hurt you. Your hips fit snugly against his, and make something you can't yet name stir in your lower belly.

It's different. It's strange. You want it to stop. Why do you feel so nervous, as if Caraxes was suddenly dropping down and not barely getting ready to fly?

“Soves, Caraxes.” Daemon orders, careful not to scream in your ear. “Are you alright, little Princess?”

You cease your squirming, hoping that he doesn't notice whatever is different with you.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“You keep squirming as if there were ants inside your bodice. Are you uncomfortable?” The Prince snickers by your ear, pressing a soft kiss right by the top of it. What happens next is impossible to hide. Your body gives a shiver, all of your hairs standing up. The sensation is as confusing as it is pleasant.

“My stomach feels funny.” You complain, knowing that it isn't exactly that, but close enough that he probably won't question it.

“Funny how?” Daemon kisses behind your ear. You make a hurt, confused noise. You have been kissed before, but never there. In your experience, kisses are not this devastating.

“Funny.” You refuse to elaborate because while naive, you are not dumb. This must be precisely why your father wanted you away from men. If they were able to inflict so much pleasure, it was no wonder why maidens let them do whatever they wanted to them.

“Does it hurt, little Princess?” One of his palms goes to your lower stomach, pressing slightly. “Here?”

You squirm. So he definitely knows.

“Yes.”

“Hurts? Or…?” Daemon's hand goes dangerously low, nearly pressing between the parting of your legs. You squirm more. He brushes something that makes you jolt, delighted.

“We shouldn't.” You answer. It would be much more convincing if you were not relaxing into him. He laughs right in your ear, but retracts his hand.

Even with his hands away from your most sensitive areas, you still feel worked up. Your bodice is too rough against your skin, the way Caraxes moves under both of you makes the area between your legs tingle.

You keep your eyes firmly on the sky in front of you. As it starts to change into pinks and yellows, the feeling ebbs and starts to fade. You feel sleepy, so you recline more against Daemon. A tiny yawn escapes you.

“Tired?” Daemon brushes your hair back, much more tenderly than your father would. With your father, the touch is always harsher, more possessive. As if he is always grasping to the last threads of Aemma he can hold. With Daemon, it feels like he is actually touching you.

You hum, soft and sweet.

“Sleep, little one.” He kisses your cheek. “I'll wake you up when we get there.”

The next time you wake up, it is in an unknown bedroom. At first, you panic. The canopy over the bed looks too similar to the one in your tower, and you wonder if perhaps you dreamed it all. Daemon, Caraxes, the flight, your feelings. Then, you get even more scared because the more you look, the more you realize this is not your room.

You get out of bed. You are still dressed in the same dress you were wearing earlier, but your shoes are gone. The door is closed. Fear grips at you. What if Daemon has sold you to someone evil and rotten, as your father says people outside the Red Keep are? What if he is the evil man?

You rush to the door. It opens easily. There is a hallway that looks much like the ones in the Red Keep, but there is no one there. You scream in fear.

Another of the doors opens in the hallway. Daemon, in a sleeping shirt and breeches, runs out.

“Princess!” He hurries to your side. You are crying, you realize, as he wipes away some of your tears. “What is it?”

“I woke up alone, and I didn't recognize…” You sob, softly.

“Oh, little girl.” Daemon scoops you in his arms. “I should have thought of that. I am so sorry.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you look at him, eyes swollen from your crying.

The world had impressed you during the day, but now that the night had fallen, and you found yourself in an unknown castle, you were afraid. What if there were monsters lurking in the hallways? Or if you needed something? What if someone hurt you?

“I do not want to go back there. I am scared.” You rubbed your eyes. Your hands dug into his arm, not wanting to let go of him.

“Do you wish me to keep you company while you fall back asleep?” Daemon asked, gently smoothing your hair down. You must look a mess, and would find it embarrassing were it not for the fact that being alone in such a big place terrifies you. At this point, you would do anything to keep him here.

“Please.” No more words are needed. Daemon doesn't want you to beg, nor does he want anything in exchange. It's comforting.

One of his hands goes to your shoulder blades, leading you back to the room. Daemon tucks you in and sits by your side.

“I'll stay until you fall asleep.” He says, smoothing down your frown with the gentlest touch. Daemon starts to hum in High Valyrian, softly. You know the melody. It's about flames and burning together. Almost against your will, your eyelids start to drop.

“Don't… Don't want you to go.” Your body feels so heavy, as if sinking into the mattress. With great effort, you manage to curl your fingers around one of his.

“Oh, Princess.” He says, interlacing your hands.

“Stay.” You order.

Daemon lets go of your hand, and you whine, awake instantly. You go to sit up, but he shushes you.

“Shh. I am just… Let me.” He slides under the covers, behind you. You close your eyes, trying to relax against him. It's no hardship at all. Now that the candles have been blown, the light is low and Daemon feels so warm against you.

He starts to trace your features. Finger meets brow, temple, cheek. Thumb brushes nose, then lips. Idly, so very idly, his voice mutters near your ear.

“How many mouths has yours kissed?”

The question startles you. You suppose there is no harm in telling him, yet there is a tinge of embarrassment over it, too. It has finally dawned on you what this new, uncomfortable, thrilling feeling is. Desire. You lust after Daemon.

“I have…” You answer, softly. You do not dare speak it out loud. Not when you rather know exactly how far the two of you are. “How about you?”

“I have lost count. Twenty, perhaps more so.” Daemon says it so casually, as if it did not matter at all. But to you, it does. What are you, compared to this man? How could you want him in such a manner, having so little to offer?

“What makes it special, then?” There has to be a reason for him to bother with kissing all these people. Perhaps, to him, all kisses feel as devastating as his does to you.

“The person, I would gather.” The Prince answers, softly rubbing your back as one would do to help a child fall asleep. You frown. It does make sense. You know what love is, after all. Being in love with someone, or at least desiring them, must make it special.

You would like to kiss him, you think. Daemon is handsome, and his touch does not feel as damning as other's do. He has already provided you with pleasure, even if unknowingly.

You make a wish, then. For your first kiss to be special, with someone you like and that knows what they are doing. If not Daemon, at least someone like that.

“Was your first special?” You ask, curious.

“No. She was terrible. Sharp teeth and all.” Daemon moves your hair aside, exposing your neck. You barely get any warning before he is taking a bite out of your nape. For a playful gesture, it's oddly painful. Your body tenses, and you try to fight it, but Daemon's hands are like a vice around your waist. “Like this.”

With no other choice, you ride it out. Pain is nearly unfamiliar to you, beyond small cuts or painful cycles. It's scorching red and hot, making you break into a sweat. Daemon forces you to take, and take, gently holding your hands in his. It's only after that you go limp under him, twitching slightly, that he lets up.

The aftermath of pain is sweet, you learn. Daemon kisses around the painful bite and blows a raspberry behind your ear. Now that he has let go of your nape, you find out that the pain was not so bad. You are not even bleeding.

“You are such a good girl.” Daemon praises. “So strong. I'm so proud of you.”

You preen as if you were Caraxes, delighted to make him feel proud of you. Daemon smiles against your temple, as if amused by you, and presses a little kiss there. It’s so tender, and so loving, a sharp contrast to his earlier behavior. It makes you feel as if you were once again on dragonback.

“Could you kiss me?” The words escape out of your mouth, without any real thinking. You know they are the wrong thing to say as soon as they leave your mouth.

Daemon pulls away from you. A hurt, confused noise leaves your throat, hands desperately searching back for his warmth.

“Oh, little Princess.” Daemon mutters, tone full of regrets. “I should not.”

“Why not?” You complain. You are not used to being denied so. The only times others do not bend to your will, you get what you want by your own means. Case in point, leaving your tower. Your father had said no, so you had ensured it happened by other means.

“I have done…. What I have done to you, why I took you…” Suddenly, it is as if an icy hand has taken hold of your throat and started to suffocate you. Betrayal settles over your features, overpowering it all.

“You are only doing this to piss off my father.” You say, shocked. Daemon raises his hands, trying to interrupt you, but you halt him with an imperious wave. “You had no intention of taking me to the dragons. You sought to ruin my reputation, as you did Rhaenyra's.”

“No, Princess, no.” Daemon shakes his head. You get up from the bed, angered. He does not try to stop you. “I swear I didn't mean for anything untoward to happen.”

“I bet you said that back then, too.” You retort. You have half a mind to do something crazy. To grab the fire poker and smash his head with it, to set the whole place on fire. You want to make him hurt.

“I… I did mean to anger your father.” Daemon admits, still trying to placate you. It only makes you wish to scream and scream and never stop. “But I do think it is a shame not to let you even try. Dragons are your birthright. Denying you is unnatural.”

You glare at him. You are unconvinced of the truthfulness of his words. Your father was right. You were unprepared for the world, and it couldn't show more. Daemon has tricked you as easily as if he were taking candy from a babe.

“I'll take you there regardless. I promised to.” His eyes are pleading, but you do not wish to hear him, or see him any longer. Instead, you sit in front of the vanity and look at yourself.

The long, silver hair. The scared eyes. The night, the first you have of freedom, is spent utterly cold and miserable. You stare at yourself and stare at yourself until you think you are going mad.

Daemon does not say a word. He doesn't leave the room, either. Perhaps he falls asleep at some point, perhaps he does not.

You look at your reflection again. You look at your hair. Silver, like his. The lovely color Daemon loves so much. Long, and braided back, flaunting your maidenhood and youth. Forever your father's little girl, never allowed to grow, to love, to lust.

A braid that long won't allow you to claim a dragon. You are more likely to set yourself on fire or trip on it. It's that thought that gives you the determination needed to do what needs to be done.

In the first drawer of the vanity there are a few miscellaneous ribbons. There is also a pair of scissors. You grab it, and grab your braid. You chop it off. As it falls from your shoulder, you feel a weight lift off from you. No longer your nape is heavy with the weight of all these expectations laying on you.

There is a woman staring at you, from the mirror. She looks like she is getting ready for war, eyes alight with determination. You stare at the contours of her face, mesmerized by what you see. All traces of Aemmas's ghost are gone from your reflection. You look more like yourself than you have ever done.

Daemon is up at sunrise. He may have been watching you chop all your hair off and expose the lovely bite mark that now mars the skin of your nape. He may have been sleeping. Whatever it is, he doesn't say a word about your change of appearance, choosing instead to dress in silence.

“Off we go.” He says, briskly, leading you out of the castle. Daemon points to a hill in the distance. “But after that, you are on your own.”

You are suddenly filled with doubt, the determination you had felt when looking in the mirror dissipating under the morning light. Your stomach clenches. Your legs are sore, unused to the exercise of riding. The bite on your neck burns.

"I do not feel ready to claim a dragon.” You say to him, as you get closer and closer to the hill. You feel like a fool. What if your father is right? What if you end this escapade with nothing to show but a ruined reputation?

“You are.” Daemon answers, barely paying attention. It makes you angry beyond belief. To make your mood known, you stomp over a few leaves, grinding them to dust under your heel. Ugh. Why were you looking to him for reassurance in the first place? It was not like Daemon wanted to help you. He just wanted to make himself feel less guilty over trying to cause a scandal and kill your father from the fright.

“I am not.” It’s almost as if you can hear the voice of your father in your head, telling you exactly why no dragon would bond with you. You are a fool, you are a little girl, you…

“You are a Targaryen.” Daemon interrupts your trail of thought with a squeeze to your nape. Right over the bite. It makes your knees nearly buckle. “You were born ready.”

“But what if it isn't enough? What if they see me, and don't want me? I am not brave, like Rhaenyra, or cunning like you or learned like my father. ”

“They will.” Daemon says. “Because you are strong here.” He taps your sternum. “And your father is a fool for not seeing it.”

You look at him. Past the guilt, past the acting up to get your father's attention. His eyes are nervous, but they hold the same steely determination yours had earlier. Daemon believes in you, you realize. You look up at the hill and think to yourself, it is time to see if you can claim a second dragon.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #prince daemon x reader #daemon fluff #daemon fanfic #daemon fic #daemon x you #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon x y/n #daemon x oc #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x fem oc #prince daemon targaryen #prince daemon #daemon smut #daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #hotd daemon #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd #asoif fanfic #asoif/got #asoiaf fanfic

[cameronspecial]

Pretty Girl

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Summary: Weddings and pregnancies are always the greatest combination.

A/N: This idea came to me thanks to this Instagram post.

Masterlist

Weddings are supposed to be an exciting and joyous event for friends and family members. However, when you are seven months pregnant, it is anything but. Her shoes, even when they are flats, are very uncomfortable and her hair is getting on her last nerves. On top of that, she is surrounded by beautiful people dressed to the nines, who don’t have swollen ankles or bags under their eyes that can’t be covered by makeup. The extra weight of her pregnant belly adds to her self-consciousness.

Rafe isn’t clueless about his wife’s fowl-mood as he watches her pout with a slice of cake in her hand. He thinks it is adorable, but he knows she would rip his head off for saying that. He offers his hand to dance in hopes that it will cheer her up. “The only way that I’m getting off this chair is if I’m getting more food or peeing,” she grumbles, shovelling more cake in her mouth. Icing escapes onto her nose and he struggles to hold in a laugh. He wipes the fugitive off, “Well, can I at least get you some more cake? Or how about that cheesecake that you were eyeing earlier?” She sets the empty plate on the table and places her hand on her stomach. “Can you see if the kitchen still has some of the mozzarella sticks, please? I saw it given for the kids’ appetizers,” she asks, thinking some more. “Actually, could you get me some cheesecake too?” He chuckles. Of course, she was eyeing what her little niece across the table from them was eating. 

He gets up from his seat giving her forehead and baby bump a kiss before getting her food. She watches everyone around her dance, wishing that her feet weren’t killing her so that she could be with them. She looks over to the bride, her cousin, and feels jealous of the attention on her. Y/N may get attention because of the pregnancy, but people are more focused on the baby, not her. It may be a little selfish, but her whole life is going to change when the baby comes and it would be nice to have some attention in the remaining months she has. 

He returns with the goods, observing the pout on her lips as she looks at her cousin. He doesn’t need her to tell him anything to know what is going through her mind. He looks at the bride and then back at his wife, repeating the action a few more times while she watches him. “You know you’re not supposed to be prettier than the bride. It’s kinda rude,” he smirks, settling in his chair and pulling hers closer to him with ease as if she isn’t brewing a baby in her stomach. She gives him a glare, “If I were prettier than the bride, more guys would be checking me out like when I used to go to clubs.” “Why would you want guys checking you out when you have all of my attention? I put a baby in you,” he grumbles with his frown. His head finds a place in the crook of her neck to give her kisses and she giggles. 

“You are so right. I mean if the hottest guy in the room thinks that I am the prettiest, then it must be the truth,” she plays along, feeling her mood start to lift. He nods at her statement, “I’m always right. Look how well my life turned out as proof. Married to the best damn wife in the world about to become the father to the cutest baby girl in the world. I’m winning.” She smiles at his words, knowing exactly what he is doing. “No, baby. I’m winning,” she whispers against his ear with her hand carding through his hair. 

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[andysorbit]

1 Corinthians 6:19 (M)

Church boy!Doyoung x church girl!reader Minors, fuck outta here Warnings: corruption?, some bible verses, Siwon is an asshole, unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, light dirty talk, daddy kink, spanking, choking, overstimulation Is this blasphemy??? Idk sorry to those who are religious? I mean if you're reading this then... ya know.

Word count: 7.2k?? I know it's a lot

"He's not gonna take the bait. He's got a crucifix up his ass," Jaemin says and rolls his eyes.

The church basement is quiet and one thing you've all learned from being in this... Holy Place... is how to successfully whisper in a room so quiet that even Hellen Keller could hear a mouse piss on cotton.

Joy leans in closer but never takes her eyes away from her Bible, "Y/n, he's not interested. You need to learn to quit while you're ahead. Siwon has him on a leash," she mutters.

"No, Jesus has him on a leash," Jaemin counters.

You pretend you don't hear them and turn back to Kun, "You got his cousin to give you a chance. He can't be that much different."

Kun looks across at Joy and smirks, "Don't say it like that... you sound like I used her," he mumbles.

Joy chuckles softly, "You were using me. You just didn't bank on getting used."

"And that's why I love you," he sighs.

Joy shakes her head, "You think you love me."

Your eyes wander back over to Doyoung's face and you watch him closely.

Sunday school is over for the day and you're all left to prepare for next week's lesson.

It's the same ritualistic pattern that’s posted on a bulletin board in Pastor Siwon's obsurdly perfect writing:

Sunday Schedule

Sunday school must begin at 8 AM and end by no later than 8:50 AM.

Breakfast/refreshments to be served from 8:55 AM to 9:15 AM.

Sunday school instructors are to work on next week's lesson from 9:00 AM to 9:45 AM

Everyone must be upstairs and seated in the sanctuary by 9:55 AM

Siwon's a bitch.

He hates women, gay people, and anyone he can't use God to manipulate. He also hates his brother Doyoung.

Siwon's father wanted Doyoung to lead the church in the event that he were to suddenly die. It was a discussion that had been talked about for years.

Nobody paid it much attention until, of course, their father did suddenly die.

The entire church- including Siwon's own wife- voted for Doyoung to lead but Doyoung, being an obedient little brother, declined.

"I'm just happy to be here and serve God with you all. Siwon hyung is more equipped to lead you than I am and I'm more than happy to continue teaching Sunday school with the little ones. If leading a church is my calling, our Savior will make me ready for that day but until then, let's just praise Him and do our best to show His glory."

That day, you were more than a little disappointed to say the least. You knew he'd look good in a clergy robe but here he is, still teaching the little ones.

Doyoung instructs the preschoolers, Kun instructs grades one through three, Jaemin instructs grades four through six, Joy instructs grades seven through nine, and you teach grades ten through twelve.

You don't enjoy it but you do it. You don't enjoy this church but you still come. Not because you feel obligated but because you don't want your funds cut.

None of you do.

Doyoung is the only one who still comes to church willingly, he prays with fervency, and cries during worship.

Sometimes, you wonder if he cries because he really feels God's presence or if that's his subconscious pleading for release from the Holy sunken place.

"I have to teach the kids about abstinence. I hate that," Joy mutters and snaps you out of your trance.

"Because you're a godless whore?" Jaemin laughs quietly.

Surprisingly, she nods, "I feel like a hypocrite."

"But you're not," You tell her. She smiles at you appreciatively.

"Ask Doyoung to help you. He's read the whole fuckin' Bible cover to cover four times already." Jaemin says.

You perk up when you hear Doyoung's folding chair softly drag across the concrete floor.

"Thirsty ass," Jaemin Snickers.

"Shut the fuck up," You hiss and drop your eyes back down to your Bible.

"Ask him for me, Y/n," Joy whispers.

"Hey, Doyoung?" You say as you close your Bible.

The room feels even hotter and you lock eyes with him.

He gives you the warmest smile, "Yes, Y/n?"

"Joy has to teach about abstinence and she needs help but she's not sure how to ask you. She's awkward about it," You tell him.

He smiles and nods at you then looks over at Joy, "You're such a jelly belly, Joy," He glances at the clock behind you, "Well, we have ten minutes. I finished early so I can help you."

He sits down in the empty chair beside yours and opens his Bible,

"I really like first Corinthians chapter six verse... nineteen. It.. speaks on how our bodies are temples and how they belong to God. I think that's a good way to start the conversation. You have to remember, Joy, your job is scratch the surface. They'll have a deeper discussion with their parents. You really don't wanna cross that boundary,"

Joy nods. This is her first go round with Sunday school. Yeri used to teach it but she just disappeared one day. There were rumors that she had gotten pregnant and that's why she stopped coming with her parents.

It's none of your business, though.

You sit and listen to him explain things so happily. His eyes light up and for a moment, you wish you were God just so he could make your own name sound so beautiful.

"I hope I was able to help you with this. If you need any help, don't be scared to ask. I'm here as much as I can be. Closed mouths can't get fed," Doyoung says warmly.

Jaemin snorts and masks it with a cough, "Sorry," he whispers.

Everyone gets up and Doyoung softly touches your arm, "Can I talk to guys before we go up?" he asks. You nod and watch as your friends glance at each other with befuddled expressions.

"Why don't you guys like me?" he asks and you feel your heart break.

"What? Who said that? Doyoung, who said that to you?" You ask him softly.

"My brother did. He said that... you guys talk about me behind my back and- I just wanna know what I did. I haven't made you feel uncomfortable, have I?" he searches your face for an answer and you can't believe he thinks that.

"Doyoung, we thought you didn't like us. You never sit with us and we thought you just preferred your own company," Kun says apologetically.

"I'm sorry. I- we never meant to make you feel that way. Especially me. We would love it if you sat with us," You say eagerly.

"Oh, yeah. Especially her," Jaemin agrees. You whip your head around to glare at Jaemin and he throws his hands up in concession.

You turn back to Doyoung and he smiles, "I know I can be a little closed off sometimes. Please don't hold it against me," he chuckles.

"It's no problem. We know you mean well," Jaemin says with a tight smile.

He's always been a bit stand-offish with Doyoung. How Siwon could have such a good brother perplexes him.

Doyoung smiles, "Okay. Next Sunday, I'm with you guys."

You nod, "I'm looking forward to it!"

~

Your week is slow and you're actually excited to be going to church. You pick Jaemin up on your way and he smokes as you drive.

"This shit better be aired out before we get there," You tell him.

He shrugs, "You say that every Sunday. Has it ever not been aired out?"

"Got me there," You concede.

Jaemin tosses his cigarette out the window at the red light. As you turn the block and into the parking lot, you see Doyoung get out of his car.

As always, he's neat and casual; opting for his usual solid-colored slacks and polo shirt. He looks so good.

"As much as I hate to say this, you're gonna have to stop picking me up if you're gonna get him to nail you to a cross," Jaemin says as you're parking your car.

"I hope you get lung cancer," You sigh.

Jaemin laughs, "You don't mean that."

When you get out, you see Doyoung leaning against his car.

He's waiting for you.

"Good morning!" he cheers.

"Good morning," You say back.

Jaemin gives him a wave, "He's trying to figure us out," he murmurs.

"Then stop cockblocking," You mumble back.

"I'm gonna head in. I have to help the kids with a few things. Thanks for the ride, Y/n," Jaemin says.

Doyoung squeezes his Bible and looks over at you, "So you never need any help with Sunday school. How is it?" He asks.

"It's good. The kids are great. Yeri took good care of them before they graduated," You tell him.

He nods, "Hey... uh... I was wondering if you wanted to um... go with me to the church picnic next month? Siwon's been..." he trails off because he's obviously trying not to badmouth his brother.

"Nagging you?" You ask quietly.

He freezes like a startled rabbit then nods, "Yeah," he whispers.

"You don't have to be married until you're ready. Besides... I'm not marrying you," You laugh.

Doyoung laughs too, "You know how he is... why he married Taeyeon and all that," he sighs.

"He just wanted a piece of ass and didn't wanna burn in hell for it?" You blurt out.

Doyoung, surprisingly, bursts out laughing, "Is he that obvious?" he says with an exasperated smile.

He's so handsome.

"Yeah," You say, "He is."

Sunday school is mundane as usual and when it's over, Doyoung comes to sit with you. Right beside you to be specific.

Jaemin smirks.

People in the congregation tried to rally for you and Jaemin to date and prelude to marriage but that would never happen.

Jaemin's gay and he's fucking the choir director's son Renjun but that, along with everything else that's sinful in this church, is none of your business. He's your friend and you love him but he's private about his affairs.

Everyone has a level of privacy they maintain in order to cover their own asses. He trusts you with his life but he stays discreet to keep your hands clean.

"It's my week to clean the church," Doyoung sighs.

"Tough luck," Joy laughs, "I had last week."

"I'll be okay," Doyoung says, "It's my own fault for staying up so late."

"Y/n can help you. It's not like she has anything to do later," Kun pipes up.

"No, that's okay," Doyoung says softly, "If she doesn't wan-"

"I really don't have anything to do later and you look pretty tired. I don't mind helping you," You say eagerly and Jaemin stiffles a laugh.

After service, you seek out Doyoung and he pulls you to the side, "Wait for everyone to leave. It'll make more sense once they do," he whispers.

So you say your goodbyes and avoid Siwon's leering eyes.

Once the church is empty, Doyoung smiles at you, "Come with me," he says cheerfully as he leads you to the sound booth.

"This is why it always takes me so long to finish."

He tinkers with his phone and when Higher Ground by Stevie Wonder begins playing, he looks over at you, "Doesn't it sound so good in the church? The way it echoes?" he says as he leans in close enough for you to hear him.

The chill that rushes down your spine sends you into a frenzy and Doyoung notices. Your voice fails you so you nod.

He doesn't say anything but he does hold your gaze. He's hard to read but you don't worry.

You clean and enjoy his playlist. One thing that hasn't changed is his love for Motown. As you clean, you sing together and when he's feeling extra playful, he keeps his eyes trained on yours and sings to you.

For a moment, you think that he wants you too.

~

When Doyoung comes to pick you up for the picnic, he's dressed in a seafoam green t-shirt, blue jeans, and white Keds.

He beams at you as he leans against the car, "What are the chances?" he says as he gestures to your seafoam green knee-length midi dress and white Keds.

"I definitely look better," You chuckle as you walk towards him. He opens the passenger door for you, "You look beautiful," he says as his eyes roam over you. "Thank you, Doyoung," You say as you hold his gaze, "You look really good too."

You can't look away from him and it's obvious he's losing the battle as well.

He draws in closer to you and hesitates. You reach out to gently place your hand on his cheek,

"I'm not gonna stop you if that's what you're waiting for."

Doyoung slots his lips against yours and kisses you slowly.

His kiss is essentially who he is; warm, gentle, wholesome.

He slinks an arm around to draw you closer, "Is this okay?" he asks you.

You nod and melt against the firmness of his body. He sets your insides on fire and the subtle strength of his hold on you sends a frenzied storm straight down to the pit of your stomach.

You can already feel your panties soaking.

He breaks the kiss and smiles at you then dips back down to kiss you once more,

"We should... get going," he says into your ear and it's so obvious that he wants to press a kiss to your neck.

"Let me go first," You chuckle.

He loosens his grip on you and smiles, "Whoops," he laughs softly.

"We're gonna be late," He says and it's more to himself because he's very much aware that he's the holdup.

You slip down into the car and look up at him.

He stares back at you and you can see his mind racing. He takes a deep breath and wets his lips with his tongue before closing the passenger door.

You watch him go behind the car and stop for a moment; bowing his head and closing his eyes, he prays. You know he's asking for forgiveness and strength.

He finally moves around to the driver's seat and gets in; he seems ready to pull off but he hesitates,

"Traveling mercies," he says softly and bows his head.

You follow suit and he prays,

"Blessed Father God, thank you for giving us another opportunity to live another day in your glory. Please be with us as we travel today. We're thankful as always for your love and protection. In Jesus' name, amen."

"Amen," You whisper.

He starts the car and his motown playlist picks up from the middle of Mama’s Pearl by the Jackson 5 and you smile.

As he drives, you both chat about work and sometimes stop to sing because the music is just too good.

"You're the only person who sings with me," he says as he pulls into the church parking lot.

"Am I?" You ask incredulously, "How could anyone not wanna sing with you?"

Doyoung shrugs, "I dunno... I don't mind. I think I prefer if it's only you anyway."

You smile at him and he puts the car in park before cutting the engine.

Your mind wanders back to when you were both younger and how close you were to each other.

As if he read your mind, he pipes up,

"What happened to us?"

"I don't know, Doyoung, but I miss you," You reply.

"I think I let Siwon steer me too much. He always said you were trouble and I'd be getting myself a one-way ticket to hell if I stuck around you..." he trails off.

"Ouch," You grunt.

"I'm sorry I told you that," he says apologetically.

"Don't be... I kinda already knew... but why the sudden change? Are you just trying to spite him?" You ask.

Doyoung shakes his head, "Not at all. I just... I'm tired of trusting him so blindly... he's not a good person."

You arch your eyebrows in surprise, "It's okay that you trusted him. He's your brother and you love him. There's nothing wrong with that."

He nods and then opens his door, "I'll get your door for you. Stay put," he says.

He comes around and opens your door. As you get out, you see Siwon pull in a few spots down.

He's alone.

He gets out of comes over with a confused smile, "Sister, your dress is mighty short," he says.

"And considering there's a dresses only code for a picnic, so is my patience," You say with a tight smile.

Siwon nods and stands down, "Fair enough," he concedes before looking over at Doyoung, "Is she your date?"

Doyoung nods, "We agreed to come together so yes... she is."

Siwon smiles. "Well it is time you started seeking out a wife."

Doyoung shakes his head, "It's not a job hunt, hyung. I'll know when it's time," he says sheepishly.

"Of course," Siwon says with a smile, "I'll see you guys 'round back."

When he leaves, Doyoung looks at you, "I'll leave early if you do."

"Definitely. How long should we stay?" You ask him.

"I say we give it about an hour. Eat light. I'll cook for you," he says with a shy smile.

"You're gonna cook for me? Get outta here," You say with surprised smile.

"It's a hobby... no big deal," he says coolly.

He's pulling you in.

You watch as Siwon stands at the grill and burns a fourth burger. It's a shame that hardly anyone is eating and those who are, obviously aren't enjoying the food.

You're close enough to hear him mutter to himself about it. Renjun comes over, "Pastor, I can take it from here." he says with a sheepish smile.

Siwon turns him away just as he has the others but Renjun doesn't back down; instead, he drops all pretenses of pleasantries and gently pries the spatula out of Siwon's hand, "Nobody likes your food. Look around," he says.

"They're burgers, Renjun. Taeyeon did this all by herself last year. How hard can it be?" Siwon scoffs.

"Rocket science since nobody can tell your burgers from a hockey puck now... move. Over," Renjun says shortly.

Siwon sighs and moves over, "Everyone's so mean today. First Y/n and her dress now you and these burgers."

Renjun flips the burgers with ease and rolls his eyes, "We're only two people- not the whole world and there's nothing wrong with Y/n's dress. She looks pretty. If you're feeling some type of way about her kneecaps then that's something you should work out with God. Don't put the blame on her for it."

Renjun looks at you and winks. You smile back and fight back your laughter. You take a sip of your soda and watch Doyoung come over to you.

"Ready to go?" he asks you softly.

You nod, "Yeah... I am."

"Head into the church. I'll count to seventy and meet you by the nursery," he says.

You nod and stand up.

You head inside and wait for him.

You send Jaemin a text:

Y/n: he's gonna cook for me 😳

Jaemin: CAN I GET TO DA YAMZ??? SWEET YAAAAAAMZ!!! 😩😩😩💦💦💦💦🍑🍑🍑🍑🍆🍆🍆🍆

Y/n: Why did I even bother telling you 🙄

Doyoung comes around the corner and you slip your phone back into your bag. He takes your hand,

"Come on."

Doyoung's house is a cozy one level cottage. He's big on earth tones.

"This is your house? It suits you, Doyoung," You gush as he unlocks the front door. The aroma of clove hits you and for only a breadth of a second, you imagine waiting for him in this very foyer after he's come home from along day of work.

"Is that a good thing?" he laughs.

"Yeah. Your house is really cute."

"You think I'm cute?"

"I don't kiss ugly men."

He turns to you and smirks, "That was... my first kiss y'know."

"No," You gasp.

He nods, "Yep."

"Doyoung, be serious!" You exclaim because there is no way in hell he could've kissed you that well if it was his first time.

"I am! Why is that so hard to believe?" he laughs.

"It was too good... just too good," You say incredulously.

He gives you a smug smile, "My ego's gonna skyrocket. Be quiet."

You stare at him with bewildered eyes and he waves a hand at you, "Come on. I know you're hungry."

His kitchen is decorated in shades of terracotta. You look around at the neatness of everything.

After you take turns washing your hands, Doyoung pulls a bowl of fruit salad out of his refrigerator, "I made this for the picnic but I forgot it so eat as much as you want because I don't want it to go to waste but I'm definitely not going back to drop it off."

You laugh and pop a grape into your mouth. His eyes linger on your mouth so you take the opportunity to pick up a pineapple chunk and bite into it slowly.

The blush spreads across his cheeks but he can't look away, "I um... what are you hungry for?"

"Whatever you wanna cook. I just wanna eat," You say between bites.

Doyoung smiles at you, "Do you want... rosemary chicken? I have a really good recipe and I still have fresh rosemary left," he rings his hands out nervously.

"That sounds so good!" You exclaim.

You watch Doyoung prepare ingredients and you make small talk and of course, he plays some music; this time opting for a soft jazz playlist.

"You like carrots?" He asks as he chops up a carrot.

"Eh... not raw," You say with a frown. You watch him hold a slice out for you.

"Do it for me. It's good for your eyes. They're too pretty to not be taken care of. Say 'ah'. C'mon," he says eagerly.

You frown a little deeper and pull back.

"Ugh, I'm gonna have to scratch you off my potential wife list. You're too disobedient. Yuck," he says with mock disgust and a sassy roll of his own pretty eyes.

You both cackle and you let him ease the carrot slice into your mouth.

"That's a good girl," he hums.

You both freeze and the silence that hangs over his playlist is deafening.

"What?" You grunt.

"I'm so sorry I said that," he says just above a whisper.

"Why would you be sorry you said that?" You ask him as you pucker your lips suspiciously.

Doyoung blushes again, "I don't... know," he replies and pops his lips. He tries not to smirk but he fails and he gives you a gentle brush across your cheek with his knuckles.

You lean into his hand and he gives you a knowing look.

When the food is ready, Doyoung seats you at his breakfast nook, "Lunch is served," he says as he sets your plate down in front of you.

"Wow... Doyoung, it's almost too pretty to eat," You say as you look at the plate and then up at him.

He smiles and turns to get his own plate. He brings it to the table and sits across from you. He reaches his hands across to take yours,

"Will you lead us in saying grace, sister?"

He's definitely flirting.

"Um... dear Lord, thank you for this food we're about to eat, bless the hands of the chef, and bless us as we take privilege in enjoying this meal," You say softly.

Doyoung smiles and stands back up, "I forgot the wine," he says as he crosses the kitchen to retrieve it from the refrigerator before getting two wine glasses from the cabinet.

"So... bless the hands of the chef, huh?" he says as he pops the cork.

You watch him bring the bottle and the glasses over, "Yeah... you did a great job," You say.

He fills your glass and then his own, "Bless the mouths that enjoy it," he counters as he holds his glass up.

You clink your glass against his as you nod in agreement, "Amen."

You can't conceive how Doyoung's meal can taste better than it looks but somehow, it's possible. As you finish off your wine, Doyoung clears the table.

"Doyoung, that was the best meal I've ever eaten," You say as you lean back and sigh.

Doyoung's face lightens up, "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Next time, I'll bake you something," he says and winks at you.

"Bake me something?" You gasp, "You're gonna bake for me too?"

Doyoung nods, "I told you, it's just a hobby."

"That's a great hobby. You're really good at it," You tell him.

"Siwon hates that I do this... he says it's menial woman's work but I like doing it and I like being useful. I don't want my wife to cook for me because she has to... I want her to cook for me because she likes me,"

You tilt your head "Because she likes you?" You ask him.

"Yeah," Doyoung nods, "Loving someone and liking someone are often two very different things. You can love someone and not like them. I love my brother but I don't like him... I want my wife to like me. I want her to smile when she thinks about me. I don't want what Siwon has with Taeyeon. I want my wife to see me as someone worthy of respect and not as someone she feels religiously obligated to respect."

You nod in agreement, "That's a good thing to want. There's nothing wrong with that." You reply.

Doyoung leans over the sink, "I don't want things to be traditional," he murmurs.

"Yeah?" You egg him on. You know the wine has him on the cusp of saying something that he normally wouldn't say.

"I- I don't... I don't wanna marry a woman who gives herself to me because the Bible says we have to reproduce. I wanna marry a woman who jumps into bed with me because she thinks I'm hot and I turn her on, I want her to... to think about me and squeeze her thighs together because I just do it for her. I don't believe that love has to be so... boring. Why would God even give us all of these feelings if we're supposed to just ignore them?" he finally says.

You sit in silence and Doyoung chuckles.

"Have I said too much?" he asks as he turns to look at you.

"No... of course not. I don't... see where you're wrong. You deserve that... Besides, if it's in us, it's meant to be enjoyed within reason," You say as you rise to your feet. You step closer to him and he reaches out for you.

"I placed bets that I'd marry you," he confesses as his lips find the corner of your mouth. He presses a light kiss to your skin there then his lips ease down to your neck.

"Yeah?" You sigh.

He hums as he kisses down to the base of your throat, "Yeah."

"Gambling is a sin." You laugh and he catches you lips with his own.

"I'm not always traditional," he sighs.

He traps you against the counter and the warmth of his body soothes you, "I won't do anything to you that you don't want me to do," he sighs as he kisses you.

"Do your worst, church boy," You whisper.

Doyoung slides his hands up your dress and cups your pussy. He moans, "Did I do that to you?" he purrs.

"Yeah... you always do," You hum.

He quirks up an eyebrow, "This is a regular occurrence for you?" he laughs against your lips.

"Uh huh... And sometimes when it gets to be too much, I touch myself."

"Y/n! No!"

You laugh, "Oh, yes!"

Doyoung tuts and dips his tongue into your mouth, "Such a dirty... dirty girl." He slips his hand into your panties and his fingers find your clit. For the first time ever, he curses,

"Fuck, you're soaked, baby,"

It sounds so hot and you whimper as he strokes your clit slowly.

"Doyoung!" You shrill.

"For what it's worth... I'm no better. You just do something to me and I... I can't control it."

He takes his free hand to bring one of your arms up to his shoulder and then the other, "Hold onto me," he says and his voice is low and steady.

You circle your arms around his neck and kiss him hungrily. His fingers massage you slowly, "Does this feel good?" he asks you.

"F-faster... please?" You plead softly. He laughs and easily obliges.

"Spread your legs a little more for me, sweetheart," he tells you softly; you quickly do as your told and he pulls back to smile at you,

"Good girl."

You moan a little bit louder and he pulls his hand out of your panties. His fingers find his way to his mouth and he sucks them clean, "Are you comfortable with coming with me to my bedroom? I can have you here next time."

"Next time?" You gawk.

"There will be a next time. You have stars in your eyes, Y/n."

He takes your hands and presses your knuckles to his lips, "Am I wrong?"

You shake your head, "No."

"Then let's go," he says and leads you out of the kitchen. Your head spins with excitement as he brings you along gently.

His bedroom is a cozy and comfortably cluttered dream. On the seat of his bow window, sits his Bible; it's opened to the book of Matthew. You try to see what chapter he was reading from but he guides you to his bed.

"Matthew, chapter five... verse twenty-eight," he says softly as his fingers begin to slowly unbutton your dress, "'But I say to you that everyone whose eyes are turned on a woman with desire has had connection with her in his heart'... I've battled with this far longer than I'd ever be proud to admit."

You smile up at him, "You're battling a sex demon?"

He laughs and covers his face with his hands, "Everyone has something that they struggle with! I mean, we're humans!" he laughs. He drops his arms down and smirks at you.

"That is true," You sigh.

Doyoung eases his shirt over his head and tosses it beside you on the bed.

It's your turn to freeze. As his hands find their way back to your dress, your eyes roam over his toned skin. He chuckles as he pushes the dress off of your shoulders,

"What demon do you fight, Y/n?"

"I have no demons... I'm a perfect vessel," You chuckle breathlessly. Doyoung pulls you to stand up and lets the dress pool at your feet, "I don't believe that for a second."

You step out of the dress and he picks it up. You watch him fold it gingerly before bringing it over to his honey colored easy chair and placing it down. He turns back to you. He's ambivalent and it's written all over his face.

"We can... put our clothes back on, Doyoung. We don't have to do this. We can just get dressed and act like this never happened," You tell him reassuringly.

He comes back over to you and pulls you into his arms, "You know neither of us wanna do that."

You nod in agreement and he kisses you. It's different. It's rough.

He eases you down onto the bed and as you scoot up to the middle, he hovers over you, "Tell me something... something wicked. Tell me something that will make me feel better about the things I'm going to do you."

Your body is somehow even hotter. He kisses your lips then licks a warm stripe across your neck before sucking on the tender flesh.

"I think about you all the time... I imagine you... bending me over in the church basement and fucking me until I can't stand," You whimper.

Doyoung groans and presses his hardness against you, "That's your fantasy? Being fucked in a church basement? Such a dirty girl... what else do you think about?" Doyoung kisses his way down to your chest before pulling you up. He reaches around behind you and unclasps your bra.

"I think about you overpowering me and- using me until you're satisfied... I just wanna be ravished by you," You whine as you both grind against each other.

He's invading all of your senses and neither of you has completely undressed yet.

"How are you even real?" he groans as he fumbles with his pants. He clumsily gets them off and kicks them off of the bed. Your bra is next to go then his briefs and then finally, your panties.

Doyoung kisses you with fervency. He pulls back and pins your arms over your head, "You wanna be ravished, huh?" he chuckles and dips down to take your bottom lip between his teeth.

"Uh huh," You sigh.

Doyoung slides down and nestles himself between your thighs. He peppers your skin with soft kisses. His mouth latches onto your clit and he sucks it softly. You cry out and buck your hips against his mouth.

He laps at you and teases you with his tongue.

"Doyoung... yes. Please... please," You gasp.

He continues his attack on you and you reach down to card your fingers through his hair and grind your hips desperately.

"Not enough, is it?" he asks as he raises his head to look at you.

"I... no... that's not it... I just want you. Come back up here... please," You whimper.

Doyoung laughs, "Do you miss me or something?"

"I do," You reply.

Doyoung comes up and presses a sloppy kiss to your lips.

You reach between your bodies and stroke him. He squeezes his eyes shut and grips the sheets.

"Want you in my mouth," You whimper and Doyoung flips you both over. He looks up you before propping himself up on his elbows,

"Have at it."

You nestle between his legs and grip his cock with both hands, "You're bigger than I expected," You say then lick from the base up to the tip.

Doyoung's tongue darts out to wet his lips, "Fuck," he sighs.

"Am I teasing you?" You ask him innocently.

"Come on... do something, baby," he sighs.

You smirk and drag your tongue back and forth over his leaking tip; collecting precum as you do, "Make me do something," You say softly.

Doyoung takes a fistful of your hair, "Don't be such a tease," he says and gently forces your head down. You moan and take him all the way into your mouth.

He slowly bucks his hips as the head of his cock repeatedly taps the back of your throat, "That's a good girl," he moans, "So fucking good."

You let him use your throat as you feel your own wetness slicking up your inner thighs.

Doyoung pulls you back up and kisses you, "Not like this... I need to be inside you," he says as he gets you back underneath him.

He teases your slit with the head of his cock and you whine desperately, "Ask me for it nicely."

"Please... give it to me," You whimper.

"You need me to fuck you?" he asks you roughly; his voice is coarse and heavy with desire.

You nod and that's all it takes for him to guide himself into you.

"Fuck!" You both cry in unison. You look at each other and laugh.

Doyoung dips down to press his forehead to yours, "You're so much better than I could ever have imagined... so fucking tight for me. We were made for each other. Don't you agree?" He says and his hips collide with yours over and over and over again.

"Y- yeah... I... I love this. Please don't stop, Doie... please," You plead. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, "I want you to fuck me forever."

"Forever?" he sighs and slows his pace, "You could take this forever, baby?"

You kiss him, "Uh huh," You pant.

Doyoung groans, "I'm... fuck, baby... I'm close."

You reach down to bring yourself closer to your own release.

He pushes your hand away and replaces it with his own, "No... that's what I'm here for... let me," he says as his fingers draw fervent circles into your clit.

"Doie! Yes, yes, yes! Fuck..." You moan as you both release together.

"That's it, baby. You sound so pretty when you cum for me. That's my girl," he praises you as his own orgasm rattles his body.

You cling to Doyoung and he collapses on top of you. You both tremble as you regain clarity. Once his breathing is under control, he rears up to press a chaste kiss to your temple then rolls off of you.

You turn to face each other and the air is still thick; he smiles, "I want you to know something..." he says as his eyes roam your face, "I don't want you because I just need a release... I want you because you're the only woman I've ever thought about doing this with... You're the only woman that's ever made me forget that God even matters."

You blush and bring your hand over to stroke his cheek, "I don't even think I could say anything to top how special that is but I can try," You say with a chuckle.

Doyoung smiles.

"I... I've kissed boys... maybe too many but... I waited for you. I didn't want anyone else," You tell him.

His face beams, "We waited for each other and didn't even realize it," he laughs.

~

Come Sunday morning, Siwon is privy to the way you and Doyoung engage each other.

"Sister, can I have a word with you?" he pipes up. Jaemin's eyes perk up and he's obviously ready to go to battle. You shake your head and smile at him before turning your attention to Siwon.

"Yes, Pastor?" You say.

"You've been very close with my brother. What exactly are your intentions?" he asks you suspiciously.

Doyoung is at your side before you even have time to react, "Her intentions are well, hyung. Better than yours were," he says coolly.

Siwon scoffs, "What?"

"Taeyeon hasn't been here in... three months now? She's not that sick. She left you and everyone knows she did," Doyoung says.

"Literally everyone knows," Renjun says in passing.

"I'm just worried about the choices you're making. You seem different," Siwon presses.

Doyoung shrugs, "My choices are fine. If I ever go astray, I'll do the work to get back on track. I think you should worry about your own affairs."

Siwon nods, "Well, if that's how you want it then that's how it'll be."

He excuses himself and Doyoung turns to you, "You're not his sin to overcome," he laughs.

That afternoon, while the sun hangs low in the sky, Doyoung tends to his garden, and you watch him as you remain on standby, ready to help him with his needs.

"Being married is gonna be a lot of fun... I like having you here to help me with the gardening," he sighs with a soft smile.

"Daddy's little helper," You mumble.

He straightens up and his eyebrows go up, "I- I- whoooo, what? What? Y/n, behave!" he gushes as he gently nudges you with his arm.

"You've never had that thought?" You ask him teasingly.

He nods, "I have but I'm busy right now and you have to behave yourself because this was supposed to be done three days ago and I don't want my garden to die so... sit there, be quiet, and don't touch me until I'm done."

"Okay, Daddy," You say sweetly.

Doyoung stands up and pulls off his gloves off, "On your feet. Come on," he says as he places his gloves in his supply box.

You stand up and follow him into the kitchen. He washes his hands and turns to you.

He's trying so hard to be firm with you but a smile shines through on his face, "You gotta... don't smile at me- you-" he laughs and pulls you into his arms, "You gotta behave yourself. You're failing the wife trial. Get it together!"

You hug him and press a kiss to his cheek, "I'll try harder tomorrow," You chuckle.

Before you know it, Doyoung is turning you around and pressing you down against the counter, "Why can't you behave yourself right now?" he asks you softly, his fingers pushing your shorts and panties down.

"Don't wanna," You sigh as his hand caresses your bare ass.

He lands a mild slap down and you gasp.

He laughs low and thick, "You like that?" he asks.

"Y- yes!" You whimper and wiggle your ass in an attempt to touch some part of his body.

"Well, you're not really supposed but... I guess that's okay for right now... I'll just have to find some other way to punish you," he says and slaps your ass again, this time a little bit harder. You moan and he slaps you once more.

"Daddy!" You whine.

Doyoung slides his hand down to your cunt and kicks your legs apart, "You're always so wet for me... no matter what's going on, I know that if I just... slide my hand between those beautiful thighs, I'm gonna get my fingers soaked."

"I always want you, Daddy... always," You sigh as he slides his middle and ring fingers into your pussy. He fucks you with his fingers and leans down to lick the shell of your ear, "Such a greedy little whore." he says softly.

You clench around his fingers and writhe. Moans pour from your mouth as he shows no signs of slowing up.

"Oh? You like that?"

"Yes, Daddy!"

"You like it when daddy talks to you like this? Huh, slut?"

You nod furiously and clench around his fingers once more.

He tuts, "Can't hear you."

"Yes, Daddy! Yes!" You scream.

"That's my girl."

Doyoung eases his fingers out of you and pulls you up by your hair, "Taste yourself, baby," he says as he pushes his fingers into your mouth.

You hum as you suck them. Doyoung drops down to his knees and helps you out of your shorts, "Hold onto the counter,"

You do as you're told and he lifts your left leg onto his shoulder before devouring your pussy. You throw your head back and cry out as he brings you close to your release.

His tongue speeds up and slows down. He gets better each time and you mentally note his progress. Your legs give out as you cum against his tongue.

"Daddy!"

He pulls back and lets you sink down onto the floor in front of him.

He kisses you, "Was that good, princess?" he asks you.

You nod, too enthralled by the throbbing of your pussy to speak. He chuckles and his hand returns to your cunt, "Then you shouldn't mind one more, right?"

Doyoung brings his other hand up to circle around your throat, "One more time, baby... I know you can do it," he purrs as he tightens his grip just enough to make your eyes roll back. He chuckles at the effect he has on you.

You grip his biceps as he massages your clit and you try in vain to squeeze your thighs shut but he doesn't slow up and you're coming undone again.

Your thighs tremble violently and he just doesn't stop.

"You have the power to stop me, Y/n... you know I'd never do anything you don't want me to do so... go ahead... stop me," he whispers against your mouth.

You don't stop him. You can't. He feels too good and he brings a level of greed to your body.

Tears prick your eyes and a third orgasm rips through your body. You whine weakly and finally, his hand ceases.

"How's my girl?" he asks softly as he moves his hand from your throat to your cheek.

You can't speak. You collapse against him and he rubs your back, "Do you need anything?"

You shake your head and cling to him a little tighter. Your body slowly relaxes and he rocks you slowly.

When you finally come down, you give him a chaste kiss and he smiles.

Doyoung pulls back to look you over, "I stopped repenting y'know... for what we do," he says softly.

"Why?" You ask him. Your voice is still hoarse and he can't help but laugh.

"How can I when I'm not sorry?"

_____

yo if you got to the end of this, thank you!!

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[misguidedasgardian]

The Hour of the Wolf (4)

IV. It is you

MASTERLIST

Summary: Pressures makes wind, earthquakes, and marriages

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats,arranged marriage, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon, 

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3.8 k 

Notes: I don;t think this is going to be a love story, this is about politics, and a truly arranged marriage, their relationship will develop of course, but I just wanted to get that out there

“You have done a great job with her”, Cregan raised his eyes to encounter the mythical Jeyne Arryn, cousin to the late Queen Aemma, keeper of the East, Lady of the Eyrie, they both contemplated you as you sat the Iron Throne and gave audiences

“I have done nothing, it’s all her”, he said severely

“You are good with her, for her”, she said then, looking at him with her piercing blue eyes

“I know what you are implying…”

“She needs a husband”, she said

“You should stay here in court, as her hand when I leave”, he said almost at the same time

“You can’t leave her”

“I have to, I have a child…”

“She needs you, the realm needs you”

“The North needs me, she will be fine”

“You know that is not true, she is still too young to differ allies from foes”

“She will learn”

“At the cost of the realms”, Cregan Stark looked at her severely, but he had met her equal, this woman was not going to back down

“What about my son? What about my people? How is that going to work?”, he asked then

“You can come and go”

“A year at a time”

“Maybe”, she said. The small council had been relentless, just as Jeyne was being 

His name was in that alliance

He pledged to take you to wife, you, in name, regardless of who you had become… you were his betrothed. And it’s not like he gave his word lightly, only, like he said, he need a wife and a lady of Winterfell, he did not want to become the King consort of the Seven Kingdoms, he did not want to take care of you… forever…

But he had taken the capital for you

Yes he promised your mother…

But he had done it for you, an unknown princess, on his mind

He found himself looking straight at you

Like the first time he saw you, he thought, again, you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Since he took the capital, color had returned to your face, you no longer had darkness under your eyes, your cheeks were fuller, you also filled your dresses more, meaning you were eating more, sleeping longer…

You were better

His eyes then trailed over all the faces of the Lords gathered there in the throne room, lickspittles, asskissers, many of them, without honor, just hunger for power and gold

Did he really care for what happens to the people of the other six Kingdoms? Were you really in danger? Kings had been surrounded by traitors all their lives and nothing major had happened…

Well… until Otto fucking Hightower

No, he couldn’t let that happen again

He thought he only wanted to bring justice to the traitors, but it wasn’t true, he cared about what happened

He cared about what happens to you…

The realization made him shift on his feet

He cared about you 

He did not want you to get married to someone who was going to please the small council and take your place eventually, who was going to manipulate you or worse

He didn’t want you married to someone who…

No… he just didn’t want you married to anyone else… that’s it

The bare thought made him shiver

You felt yourself being watched intensely, and found Cregan Stark’s eyes

You felt your cheeks heated, as you looked away like a little girl who had been caught doing something silly 

You were only a young woman, barely turned eight and ten name days

And Cregan was only a young man who had the power of the biggest country in the seven kingdoms and wanted to use it to avenge his Queen

He was himself impulsive, reckless even, maybe the rest saw him like the greatest choice, but he knew the truth

He wasn’t

What if he tipped you off a ledge? What if he sets you off resulting in the destruction of cities and the annihilation of thousands?

And yet…. He was the only one you trusted

Months on the road, maybe years away from you, years away from his home, his child… There must always be a Stark in Winterfell

But when he leaves you to be in Winterfell, he was going to wish he was in King’s Landing, and when he is here, he wishes he could be in Winterfell, he was already missing it, he wanted to see his son, his five year old son, he had left him in good hands, with his loving half sister, and trusted friends and servants… but still

He was so small, he had it when he was so young, the only thing he had left of his dear friend Arra

If he married you… if…

He was going to give you children, his child, second child, was going to sit the Iron Throne one day… and his oldest was going to be Lord of Winterfell

That was… enticing, to say the least

Too good to be true….

Having children with you, a thought that enticed and scared him in equal measure

A child of Ice and Fire, a child who was going to be a Northerner by blood and a dragon rider as well…

He shifted on his feet again

He wanted it

And he could pretend he had a choice all he wanted, but he didn’t… he had signed the pact… the woman… the Queen seated in the Iron Throne…

Was his betrothed

It didn’t have to be two months, a week long boat ride to White harbor and another week on the road and he could be home quickly…

It had to work

Did you want this?

He gave you the service of ending the courts early, and then you abandoned the throne room.

But before he could reach you, he was intercepted by Celtigar

“I need to talk to you”, he said, Cregan only nodded as they walked together to a hallway of the Keep which seemed to be empty

“What is it?” He asked, his patience long gone

“I can marry her”, he said quickly

Cregan stopped in his tracks, and frowned

“You trust me, don’t you?”, he asked when he saw his face

“yes, but…”

“I can get you out of the pact… if she is the one to accept”

He should be relieved, he should have said yes immediately, but the thought of you marrying someone else… he didn’t like it.

Not that he didn’t trust his friend, he did, he was the best choice according to him, the day before he had offered himself, the thing is… he had changed in the last 24 hours… 

He wanted it, you, the seat at your side, the children you were going to give him…

But he wouldn’t even accept it himself, this was deep inside of him, he wanted to protect you, none of those southerners had what it took, only him, he didn’t trust anyone else, not really 

Only him…

“My name is in those papers”, he growled

“But perhaps if I speak to her, began to court her…”

“I’ll talk to her”, he cut him 

“I really think I should be the one…”, with only one look Cregan makes his friend stop speaking. He had just realized what he truly wanted to do, and he did not need to be contradicted now. “You are marrying her, aren’t you?”, he said, a smile sneaking on his friend’s face

“I don’t know yet, I don’t want to pressure her”, Celtigar only hummed

“I want to marry her too”, he said then. Cregan looked at his friend and he understood him, he was challenging him…

“May the best man win her affections then”, Cregan said.

He was not going to lose

And as he walked away Celtigar only smiled, having pushed his friend in the right direction by only pretending to want your hand in marriage

Cregan had asked Lord Redwyne for help and together they had set you up with young ladies, that shared your age, your ladies in waiting as it were. But instead he found you alone in the Red Keep garden, walking and escorted by one of your white cloaks

“What happened with your ladies in waiting?”, he asked point blank as he approached you, the lack of property, referring to you not as “your grace”, and it made your guard almost wince  

“I send them on their way”, you said simply, leaning in to smell a beautiful flower, barely acknowledging him

“I don’t want you to be lonely”, he said gently, you raised your eyes to look at him 

“yes, I know but they are so… vain… “this lord looked at me”, or “have you seen the dress she was wearing…”, Cregan only smiled condescendingly at you, “and I…”

“You are thinking about the wellness of millions”, he said, “concerned about the future of the entire realm, I understand”

“I understand the need to be distracted for a while, but…”, he only nodded

“I understand”, he said shortly

“Why are you here?”, you asked, nervous, he didn’t understand the change in your dynamic, you had felt confident and calm enough to cry in front of him, but now you were evading his gaze, and shifting in your feet in nerves

In your mind was a bit more clearer

You realized you liked him, you found yourself feeling butterflies in your belly when you saw his handsome face, and you wanted to punch yourself, for being so childish, you were not a young girl in front of her knight in shining armor, you were a Queen now, he was your hand, your advisor, and the head of one of the most important houses on the entire realm.

But you felt your legs shake, and your breath caught in your throat every time you saw him approach you

And every time he was near, you wanted him to stay near you, you felt your chest strangle your heart each time he walked away from you.

Gods this was strange even for you

“I want to ask you something”, he said slowly, you looked at him then, concerned 

“You are leaving”, you said.

You were not an idiot, you knew he had a son, he was the Lord of Winterfell, he needed to rule his home. You couldn’t expect of him to stay here forever 

That took him by surprise

“No”, he said softly

“But you have to go one day, don’t you?”

“That is what I wanted to talk about”, he said softly, your attention was on him then, you tried to pull on those dark feelings that would make you mad at him when he did decided to leave, he could not see that wide-eyed little girl who had a crush on him, not now, and you will not beg when he tells you it was going to be time for him to return home…

“... the marriage offers”, you were lost for a second but that certainly brought you back to attention

“Uh?”, you asked

“You had been offered several hands of many lords over these past few days”

“Did the small council put you up to this?”, you asked, bored

“You need to get married”, he said severely, “we need to make your family strong again, you need to settle your line…”

“I understand”, you said, looking down. You knew he had signed a pact to marry you, but you also did not want to hold him to it, there were different times, it was naive for you to think he was going to hold up his part, he had done enough already 

“A marriage is also an alliance”, he continued, “you need someone who will help you and guide you, but not manipulate you…”

You only nodded

“A strong person, with a powerful family name…”

“If you say Tyland Lannister I swear…”, he chuckled, and shook his head

“No…”, he said. He then stopped all his movements, you felt his gaze on you, so you stopped as well and raised your head and eyes to look at him, “who do you want?”, he asked then

“I’m not sure”, you said, but you did… you wanted him

For the doubt in your mind made him question his own decision. He thought you were going to name him, but you were truly doubtful

You didn’t think he was an option

“I don’t know any of those men”, you said then in a whisper 

“You know some…”, he tried, you looked at him

He felt even guilty for wanting it

He gave in to his deepest desire, of power and lust.

“Yes you are right”, you whispered, looking away from him again, “I just…. need to think this through”, you said with a low voice, you wanted to end this chat

But he didn’t, he needed you to say it

He had heard the small council ask him to, he had heard Lady Jayne Arryn… but he needed to hear it from you.

“There must be someone in your mind”, he said softly, with a gentle, soothing voice

“There was”, you admitted

“Talk to me, I’m your hand”, he continued, “I am here to advice you”

“Until you leave me”, you say then, without thinking, it was barely a whisper

So that’s it, he thought, you resented him for even the mere thought of him abandoning you

“I can come back”, he said then, with a hint of amusement on his voice 

You only hummed, you didn’t believe him, and you were going to feel terribly lost without him, again, alone, like you had been before he saved you…. before he took the city in your name and put you on the throne

He did all of that

There was nobody else you wanted by your side but him

You shared a longing look, a long gaze

What did he want? you asked yourself. He looked like he wanted to listen to you but also to speak, at the same time. You didn’t know what else to say

“What does that mean?”, you asked then. He sighed, loudly

“I signed a pact…”, he said

“Yes, my brother offered my hand in marriage in exchange for your allegiance and your swords”, you said lowly

“No”, he answered back, you looked at him intently, “he asked for my loyalty, he had it already, but he negotiated our union for the simple fact he was scared of something befalling you, he wanted to send you North under my protection to keep you safe from harm, from the war, and from the Greens”

Ah yes, safe from Aemond and Aegon

“That sounds like my brother”, you said, melancholy tainting your voice 

“He wanted to keep you safe”

“In more than one way you had kept your promise”, you assured him, “you took the city, took control…”

“I did”, he said softly, “for you”

“You are going to put a crown in my head”, you said

“In three days”, he said then, “and then you should announced your betrothal”

“I don’t have one”

“You do”, he said finally, his eyes, piercing eyes bore into yours, he dwarfed you in size, and even though he had left his fur cloak behind… he still look big and imposing

“Cregan…”, you called

“Say it”, he encouraged 

“You signed the pact…”, you said.

As you looked at him, you grew angry

What did he want from you? to beg? you didn’t even know. He had signed that past, to marry you one day, and yet, he dodged that part at every turn, he needed to return home, you understood that he had a son, a little boy who needed his father, so why was he here? talking to you in this way? 

“You promised to marry me”, you said softly, he barely nodded, his eyes looking intently at you, “but I understand…”, he frowned then, and you started walking away from him. Letting him standing in the garden

You called in a small council meeting, on your own accord

They were right, you needed to make your family bigger and stronger…

“I called in this meeting because I have to make a demand”, you said firmly, your small council looking amongst each other, Cregan was silent, playing with the dragon eye in front of him

“Tomorrow the Barahteon will present themselves to me, and I want to tell you my intentions so you’ll be prepared”, you said firmly, “It is to my understanding that princess Jahaera, daughter of Aegon the Usurper, is still in Storm’s End…”

“As a guest”, said lord Lannister

“As a hostage”, you said then, “It is to my understanding that she was on her way here, when Aegon was poisoned”, you said softly, “I know because it was discussed at the dinner table in front of me, yet, she is not here, I understand they are trying to keep her safe as some sort of leverage, but…”, you continued, and then you soften your gaze, “I want her here, she is a little girl, a Targaryen, daughter to my lovely aunt Helaena, and she should be with me and Aegon, with family”, you said softly

“Your grace is most graceful”, muttered the Maester, the others murmured their affirmations

“Tomorrow I will demand of the Baratheons to bring little Jahaera back to me, when she is here, we will betrothed her to Aegon, to finally solidify the family and end this madness”, yous aid with a soft smile

Aemond, Aegon, Alicent and Otto are and will burn in hell

But not Helaena and her children

She was an angel, so were the little boys that lost her lives

Jahaera was the only one left, you owe it to Helaena to keep her safe

After the affirmation and support of your small council, you walked towards your little brother’s chambers

He had become so quiet and sad, which was expected, but still, you tried to keep his mind busy, you would put Septas and maesters to teach him and accompany him, at all ours, soon, one of your King’s guards will teach him the art of the sword.

Now you make sure to sit and dine with him

Even though he barely spoke

“Jahaera will come to court soon”, you whispered to him as you served yourself a cup of wine

“Who was Jahaera?”, he asked innocently, of course he didn’t remember 

“Helaena’s child”, you said, “she is your age, you can have fun together”

“Oh”, it's the only thing he said, while continue to have little pieces of bread and meat 

“Maybe one day you can get married”, you said lightly

“When are you getting married?”, he asked then and made you laugh

“Soon, but I don’t know with whom!”, you said as it was a joke, it was sad that it was true

“Marry Cregan”, he said simply

“WHy?”, you asked him, amazed

“I see the way he looks at you”, he said simply

“How does he look at me?”, you asked him

“As papa looked at mama”, he said, and you got quiet

“He has to go back North”, yous aid lightly

“You can command him to stay, you are the Queen”, he said, still not looking at you

“If I only command without listening to reason I’m a Tyrant”, you said softly, “not a queen”

“He wants to stay”, he said

“I don’t know if he does, you know Northerners don’t fare well here in the south”, you joked 

“Command him”, he insisted

“Aren’t you a little tyrant?”, you teased, reaching over the table and tickling his side until he squealed in a laugh

But gods if that made you think…

“He looks at you they way papa looked at mama”

Daemon Targaryen wasn’t much of a communicative man, he didn’t need to speak, it was all in his eyes…

He could make men tremble with just his gaze, he could make his children giggle with a wink, and he could make your mother swoon with that sparkle in his eyes.

Even little Aegon could tell 

Even if the nannies took control over your little brother, you were by his side until he fell asleep, and then you went to your own room

You served yourself a cup of wine, another cup of wine.

“Call in Lord Stark please”, you asked Eryk, and he nodded and went to fulfill your requirement 

It was inappropriate, to say the least, to summon a man to your chambers at this late… but you needn't to worry about such matters… Or you did

Your brother was right, you were a Queen, you had to begin to act like one 

Cregan foud you seated by the fire, in a relaxed stance, with a goblet of wine in your hand

“Your grace”, he greeted, he seemed serious, but you believed you found a glint in his eye… you were started to get to know him and his facial expressions, as cold as they may seem

“My Lord Hand”

“You will summon me and believe me, I will attend to your calling, but I must say, if someone sees me coming into your chambers at the hour of the owl, where we are going to be alone…”

“I’m aware”, you said, smiling at him

“What do you need?”, he asked gently, with a smirk on his lips

“Today in the garden…”, you started, “you mentioned the pact you sign”

“Yes I did”, he said

“Why?”, you asked him

“Why?”, he asked back

“Why would you bring it up?”, you asked again, “it seems that you do not intent to honor it”, he got quiet then, analyzing you

“I meant…”

“There is no one else…”, you said, “it is you”, you looked up at him, your eyes sparkling. He softened his gaze

“Is that a command?”, he asked, amusement in his voice, it was like he was playing a game.

“Marry me”, you said, “honor the pact of Ice and Fire… you can come back home, on the condition of course that you come back…”

“To you”, he said

“To me”, you agreed. “Everyone will be at ease, well, except for the Hightowers, when you sit at my side in the throne…”, you said, he barely nodded, still smiling 

“I don’t think so…”, he said finally, you stopped all your movements, was he rejecting you? he was not going to marry you? you had to command him, if he refused, you could fall through, you couldn’t make a man marry you… you started feeling ashamed of even summoning him here… you were starting to feel like an idiot

He turned his back to you and went to the small table in the corner and served himself a goblet of wine.

“I think they will feel threatened..”, he continued, you smiled then, taking a breath you didn’t know you were holding, “you and me together…”, he continued, taking a sip, “soon they’ll realize… the dragon and the wolf sat together… and they are all sheep”

You both smiled widely at each other 

this is the vibe I was going for jajaja

Cregan is... complex... everyone wanted a tougher Cregan, i'm giving a gray one. He has ambitions, and wants power, and he is not indiferent to us, the beautiful young Queen... of what I read about Cregan, it is what I perceive... anyways... hope you like... maybe I moved it a bit too quickly but I want to get to the good part

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[myocsfanfictions]

THE WRATH OF FIRE

MASTERLIST

Princess Ysilla Targaryen is the only daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce. The affection that she felt for her mother was strong, while her father had never been there, acting as if Ysilla was not even his. But she was. The dragon egg that had been put in her cradle hatched. An outcast of a dragon was born. A dragon with no legs. An outcast of a dragon for and an outcast of a dragon rider. Ysilla’s hair was dark but streaked with white. She was a Targaryen, and her wrath was not different from the one that burned inside the members of the House of the Dragon.

《 Previous - Next 》

CHAPTER 7

The morning of her name day, the Queen congratulated her, "Eleven of age today. I wish you all the best."

Ysilla had risen from her seat next to Helaena to bow graciously, "I thank you, your Grace." The Queen smiled at her, a hint of pride in her eyes.

"You've finished the dress," she said, observing the white gown with green embroidery that Ysilla was wearing. The girl had found many new interests as she lived in the Capital. She had often spent time with Queen Alicent and other ladies who came to the castle as guests.

Ysilla had learned how to sow and make her dresses, including her riding attire for when she went flying on Darysyr's back. At five, she would have never thought that creating something of her own would make her feel so proud of herself. But being close to the Queen had introduced her to a more polished and elegant side that she had never thought would have enjoyed. But she did.

"Princess Ysilla is growing to be very fair," she heard Lady Redwine say.

That day, Ysilla and Helaena had to attend the Queen with the ladies. Ysilla had never liked that woman, always looking at her with sufficiency. But that had been the first time she had complimented her. When she was that skinny little girl of five dressed in simple clothes, people's eyes judged her.

The goat's daughter. Her father called her. And for long, she had felt like one.

She wanted to be liked and accepted by the people in the Red Keep. It was important. Alliances, rumors, and opinions were all linked. Bad rumors brought a bad reputation. And bad opinions did not bring good alliances. Or alliances at all.

"Princess Rhaenyra's second son seems healthy, your Grace," Lady Redwine said as Ysilla looked at Helaena's sawing work on her piece of cloth.

"Thank the Seven; both the mother and the child are healthy," Ysilla said, turning her eyes to observe her Queen. She had heard the strange tone of her voice crack, even if she was trying to keep her posture.

Ysilla had heard some whispers in the castle the day Jacaerys had been presented at court. But they had only grown worse when Lucaerys had been born. Both boys were dark-haired and had nothing of their father, Laenor Velaryon, in them.

"People say they are bastards," Aegon told her one day as they sat in his chambers, as they usually did, spending time together after their studies.

Ysilla regarded Aegon, "She could never do it." she said, "Rhaenyra would not cheat on her husband."

Aegon laughed as he lay on the ground. His purple eyes looked up at her, set on the cousins of the furniture. "Why?"

"We've studied politics, Aegon," she said, glaring down at him.

He smiled again, "I like to hear you read."

Ysilla sat up. "Then now listen," she answered. Rhenyra is married. She has a duty toward her husband and her people." Aegon seemed bored, but she kept talking. She was used to his behavior. "An unclear parentage brings an unstable claim to the throne." She explained, "Do you remember what I told you about my father? He would have liked to insinuate that I was a bastard for my dark hair so that he could accuse my mother of such a vile act." Those words tasted bitter on her tongue. She still remembered clearly what her mother had told her so long ago.

"But your pretty hair is streaked with silver, and your eyes are purple like ours." He answered, resting his weight on his elbows, his eyes looking at her. "So no harm done."

Ysilla lowered her eyes sadly, "There are always repercussions."

If she had been a bastard, her father would have disowned Lady Rhea, ruining her reputation. But maybe she could still be alive.

"Ser Criston," she greeted as she walked towards the Queen's chambers.

"Princess," he said, bowing his head respectfully. Ysilla felt like blushing. It happened quite a lot with Ser Criston lately. She had started to notice how beautiful the features of his face were, and that thought always made her blush. She felt a little stupid every time he was the one guarding the chamber.

"Princess Ysilla, your Grace," Ser Cole announced as she entered through the door.

"Thank you, Ser Criston," the Queen answered. The man bowed before exiting. "You are early today," Alicent said, gesturing her to come sit next to her.

"How was your morning, your Grace?"

"The King had trouble with his hand this morning," the Queen explained with a heavy breath. The Maester is tending him."

"I hope his Grace will recover soon," Alicent's lips turned into a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"How was your morning with Aegon?" She asked Ysilla, changing the subject. Ysilla took a breath.

"You know your son," Ysilla answered, "He gets distracted easily."

The woman took a breath. "At least he is less distracted by you. Thank you for keeping an eye on him." Ysilla shook her head.

"No thanks needed," she said sincerely. In six years, she had grown fond of all the cousins. But there was something that Ysilla could not quite understand. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," the Queen answered.

Ysilla took a moment. She didn't want to make a wrong impression after those years in which the Queen seemed to favor her. "You once told me that it was important for Aegon to respect his duty since he was next in line," she noticed Alicent's posture become stiff all of a sudden. But she didn't interrupt her. "Rhaenyra has given birth to two healthy sons. Couldn't Aegon get discharged from all these duties?"

The Queen's face darkened. And for a moment, Ysilla thought that maybe she should have kept quiet. But then, the Queen spoke.

"You are quite observant, Ysilla," she said, their eyes met. Very little slips from your sight. So tell me, when you've seen Rhaenyra's sons, what did you notice?"

Ysilla bit her lips, lowering her gaze. "What should I have noticed?" she did not want to answer. It was another dangerous accusation, the one that she was about to make. And from the look the Queen was giving her, Ysilla knew that she could not avoid answering.

"There's no Laenor in those children," she said truthfully, feeling uneasy about such words. Alicent nodded her head as she listened to her.

"There are many whispers in the castle, and they are spreading." the Queen said, standing up, her hands clenched together as she walked towards the window. "No one believes those children are Laenor's."

Ysilla frowned, "Shouldn't the King do something about it? Didn't he notice?"

"He does, and yet he refuses to see." The irritation in the woman's voice was evident. Ysilla, on the other hand, wondered what it would have been like to have a father who'd have protected her at any cost. She felt envy.

"But this puts all of us in great danger." Ysilla frowned, looking at her Queen with worried eyes. What danger?

"Aegon is a challenge to Rhaenyra." The Queen explained.

"A challenge?" She asked, confused.

The Queen nodded her head. Her hand moved to touch the skin of her neck, and as she did every time, anxiety rose in her.

"When Aegon was born, many believed him to be the rightful heir." Ysilla knew that Rhaenyra had been made Heir to the Iron Throne long before Aegon came to the world. If he had been born years before, surely the king would have named him, like tradition wanted. But the King had changed that tradition.

"He surely had done it to prevent my sweet husband from becoming King," Ysilla still remembered her mother laughing. She kept saying that, and it made her laugh every time, even after years.

"The King didn't change his mind, though," Ysilla said, quite sure she was not mistaken.

"No," Alicent let out a heavy breath. Perhaps no one would have questioned her rights. But now, giving birth to bastards..." The irritation in her voice was evident. Ysilla knew how righteous the Queen was. Duty was the most important matter. It came before anything for her.

"What might happen?" Ysilla didn't like where their conversation was going.

"If her right to the throne were ever challenged, my children would be the first obstacles to overcome."

Ysilla understood now. And a shiver went down her spine. If someone had ever questioned Rhaenyra's claim, since her children were considerate bastards, people would have turned to Aegon. Viserys' firstborn son shared the same name as the Conquerer. So, the only thing that stood between Rhaenyra and the Throne was Aegon. And with him, Aemond, Daeron, and Helaena. They were Targaryens, sons and daughter of the King that now set the Iron Throne. They would have to die.

This thought made her shiver with fear and rage. She had already lost her mother to schemes to gain power. She did not want to lose the people that had now become her family.

But Rhaenyra was family as well.

"This is not meant to happen, though," Ysilla tried to look at the situation from a better perspective.

Alicent looked at her with pained eyes, "I wish not, child. But if it is the worst to come, we all better be ready. That's why Aegon has to learn."

_____________________________________________________________

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#house of the dragon #house of the dragon Fanfiction #house of the dragon imagine #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon targaryen fanfiction #aegon targaryen x OC #aegon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #viserys targaryen

[babymetaldoll]

"Little Miss Reid, entrepreneur" (Spencer Reid x fem!reader x their daughter)

Summary:  Spencer and reader help their little daughter with her very first lemonade stand, and the whole BAU family gets together. Requested: Nope   Warnings: This might be too fluffy: Reader discretion is advised. Category: Hardcore fluff . A/N: Hello! I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge, I hope you enjoy it! Promp: Character helps their child with their first entrepreneurial venture... a lemonade stand. They weren't expecting half the damn FBI to show up.   Masterlist

Summer vacation was an interesting time at the Reid’s house. With both Spencer and (Y/N) having only two weeks off from work, they had to plan in advance and schedule all their activities, to make sure they had enough time to do everything their kids wanted to do with them during the break. Raven was already five years old, and Vicent was already two, and both Spencer and (Y/N) really wanted to make it up to them for always being away, solving cases with the BAU. 

That’s why that year, their “Summer fun plans” included a trip to the grand canyon, visiting lots of museums, going to a water park or two, and most importantly: helping Raven with her first lemonade stand. 

The little girl was obsessed with the idea of running her own business ever since she had visited her cousin Henry, and he had a little lemonade stand outside his house. Uncle Will had explained to her that that was Henry’s way to earn some money to get a new bike, and that was enough to plant a seed in the little girl’s brain. 

- “Dad, remember when you said I couldn’t get a pony ‘cos they are too expensive?”- Raven asked her father later that night, after reading a bedtime story together. 

- “Yes, they are too expensive and we don’t have enough room to keep a pony here. Why do you ask?” 

- “‘Cos… you know how Henry wants a new bike and he has a lemonade stand to save money and get it?”- suddenly Spencer knew exactly where his daughter was going with that question. 

- “Yes, I know.” 

- “I was thinking…”- Raven made a pause and looked at her father, who was trying not to laugh.- “I know I can’t get a pony, but what if I have a lemonade stand and save a lot of money and you take me to Barnes and Noble and I get to buy all the books I can afford?”

Spencer never saw that plot twist coming. Of course, there was no way he could say “no” to his kid. Raven was very smart and she knew her dad would be thrilled with that idea. So, after a long logistic debate with his wife, and a talk with Nono Rossi, Spencer and (Y/N) scheduled a day. That Saturday, Raven was having her first lemonade stand in David’s front yard. They decided to do it there ‘cos it was a more family neighborhood than their street. You don’t usually see kids with lemonade stands in front of an apartment building, do you?

While (Y/N) went grocery shopping with their kids and got everything they needed to make lemonade, Spencer asked for professional assistance from a Lemonade Stand professional: Matt Simmons. 

- “So, did you ever sell lemonade as a kid?”- Matt asked Spencer as they set all the materials and tools in Rossi’s backyard. 

- “No, never. I really wasn’t into outdoor activities, as you might imagine.”- Spencer replied and Matt chuckled. - “But once one of my neighbors set one, and my father forced me to go and buy a cup.”  

- “Why did he force you?”- Matt questioned, confused. 

- “He wanted me to have friends my age. When I was seven, my best friend was the librarian.”- Spencer explained and looked around - “So, where do we start?” 

- “Did you get spray paint?”

- “Yes, all of Raven’s favorite colors.”- Spencer grabbed a few cans and tossed one to his friend. Rossi walked over and left a cooler filled with cold beers. 

- “I’ll leave this here, and in case you need me, I will pretend I can’t hear you while I spend my morning reading in my studio with the AC on.” 

- “Thank you for letting us do this here, Rossi.”- Spencer smiled at him as he shook one of the spray paint cans. 

- “Anything for mi principessa.”- David replied and waved as he walked back into the house.- “Good luck, kids!” 

Spencer had been right: Matt Simmons was a lemon stand pro. In two hours they had a green and lavender stand made with four wooden crates. One rod on each side of the stand helped hold a banner (Y/N) had made the night before that read “Raven’s Lemonade” and on the front, Spencer hung another banner that read: “Lemonade: ¢50” 

- “All set!”- Matt smiled proudly and tapped on Spencer’s back a few times. - “How do you feel?” 

- “Excited, pleased with our work… nervous?” 

- “Why are you nervous? Your kid is going to be thrilled!” 

- “I know, but… what if no one shows up? She would be broken-hearted…”- Spencer sighed at the thought of his baby pouting, and Matt shook his head right away.

- “There is no way that could ever happen here. Not under this heat and not in Rossi's neighborhood. Elderly people are very supportive.”

- “Hey!”- Rossi argued, overhearing Matt’s comment on his way out. - “Who is elderly?” 

- “Your neighbors!- Simmons explained right away, trying not to laugh.   

Raven Reid yelled and jumped with excitement when she saw her lemonade stand. She ran around Rossi’s backyard, nearly hyperventilating. She hadn’t been so excited since Santa brought her the telescope she wanted. 

- “It’s so pretty, daddy!!”- the little girl jumped into Spencer's arms and he caught her with a bear hug.

- “I’m glad you like it, birdie.”- he replied and kissed her chubby cheek. - “Did you and your mom get lots of lemons?” 

- “Yes, and some lemon bars too, in case someone is hungry.”- the little girl explained. 

- “Good idea, boo. Did you thank Nono Rossi for letting us set the stand in his front yard?”- the little girl shook her head and Spencer quickly set her down.- “Go tell him thank you.”- and off the girl went, running and yelling “Nono!” on her way into the house. Spencer stared at her as he stood in the middle of the backyard, putting all the tools Derek had given him a few years earlier back into the toolbox. His heart felt full of love knowing he could give his kids the childhood he never had. 

- “Hey there, Bob the builder.”- (Y/N) walked out to the backyard and smiled at her husband. - “This looks amazing.” 

- “Thank you.”- Spencer whispered and felt her lips on his immediately. 

- “Raven is ecstatic, she wants to start making lemonade right now.” - and just in time, they heard the little girl’s voice calling for her mommy. 

- “You heard the boss.”- Spencer whispered and kissed his wife one more time. Meanwhile, I’m gonna move this outside to the front yard.” 

- “Great, Pen said she was gonna come and help around four, so we should be ready on time.” 

When (Y/N) said Penelope Garcia was going to help, she pictured her friend slicing lemons and making lemonade along with her in Rossi’s kitchen. She never imagined her friend was going to… well… be Penelope Garcia, and take things over the top, as usual. 

First, Garcia didn’t slice a lemon, she might as well have chopped the entire tree: she got to Rossi’s with homemade lemon cupcakes, lemon cake, lemon tart, and lemon cookies (lemon shaped, of course, and covered in yellow frosting). She had so many trays with goods, Luke was forced to help her. He picked her up and gave her a hand carrying everything over to Rossi’s. 

- “Oh… my… good.”- (Y/N) whispered as she stared at the number of treats her friend had baked, piling on Rossi’s kitchen island.  

- “I know, I might have gone a little over the top, but once I started, I didn’t know how to stop.”- Garcia apologized and smiled guilty at her friend, who only had one worry in her mind. 

- “Ok, now I’m scared. How are we going to sell all this?”- (Y/N) asked, but Garcia dismissed her fears and shook her head immediately. 

- “Don’t worry about that! I’m sure Raven is going to do great. We’ll charge a dollar for everything, so she won’t get confused with math.” 

- “She is Spencer’s daughter”- (Y/N) chuckled as she spoke- “Math is not the problem. But Pen, I’m just scared no one is going to show up and she’ll feel discouraged. I don’t want my baby thinking she failed.” 

- “Nonsense! It’s a lemonade stand, everybody loves a lemonade stand!”- Garcia replied and grabbed a fresh lemon- “Now, let’s make more lemonade!”

Raven ran out of Rossi’s front door carrying a stack of paper cups and a bag of paper straws. Right behind her, her mom carried a big glass dispenser filled with fresh lemonade. Raven’s little stand was ready and open to the public. A glass jar on the top of the counter was ready to be filled with the profit of the dar. Spencer stared at his daughter and took a few pictures with his phone. Garcia and Luke carried some of the sweets to start the sale, and Rossi opened his wallet.

- “Are you my first customer, nono?”- Raven asked, making her mom and dad chuckle. 

- “I am, mi principessa. Can I have a cup of lemonade and a cookie, please?”- Rossi placed a dollar and 50 cents in the jar, and Raven’s eyes shone with joy as she poured her first order. 

- “I’m gonna need a lemonade too.”- Luke said as he paid and waited for the girl to give him a cup as well. 

- “Enjoy, uncle Luke.”- the little girl said and turned to her little brother Vincent, who was playing on a blanket on the grass their mother had set for him. - “Vinnie? Do you want some lemonade? For you, it’s on the house.”- the little girl grabbed her brother’s sippy cup and filled it with lemonade, as her parents filmed the entire moment on their phones. 

JJ and Will showed up a few minutes later with Henry and Michael to support Raven’s little business. The kids played on the street with their skateboards, as Raven sat behind her stand, waiting for her customers. 

A few of Rossi’s neighbors walked toward the lemonade stand, and Raven was shining. Her parents sat with little Vincent on his blanket and watched from a safe distance as their daughter took care of her paying customers. Meanwhile, Luke and García walked to the backyard with Rossi, Will, and JJ to enjoy the pool.  

- “Fresh lemonade, get some lemonade”- Raven said to everyone who walked down the sideway and passed her stand. Everybody stopped and bought something for the little girl, she looked adorable while selling her products. But at a certain point during the afternoon, no one was coming. And Raven looked at her money jar feeling discouraged. 

- “Mama… what if no one else comes?”- the little girl walked toward her parents and sat on (Y/N)’s lap. Her mother wrapped her arms around her and kissed her cheek a few times, making the girl chuckle. 

- “Come on, it’s still early. It’s been what? just one hour? I promise by the end of the afternoon you are gonna be sold out of all the things you have in your stand.”- (Y/N) smiled and kissed her daughter’s cheek one more time before she stood up and walked back to her stand to wait for her customers. Spencer waited until Raven was far from them and turned to his wife. He didn’t have to say anything, she knew what he was thinking. It didn’t need saying. The two of them shared the same fear.   

But after just a few more minutes, something weird happened. Anderson parked his car in front of Rossi’s and waved at the Reid’s as he walked to Raven’s stand and ordered a lemonade and a slice of lemon pie for him and his boyfriend. And less than a minute later, Andi Swan’s car parked down the street, and she showed up with her husband to get a lemonade and a lemon cupcake. Not only that, but Matt Simmons, his wife, and all his kids showed up, excused themselves for being late, and ordered lemonade and lemon cookies for the entire family. Raven was on fire, and her parents were… confused to say the least. 

Where were all those people coming from? The cars kept parking: Ashley Seaver showed up with her kid and husband and got lemonade and lemon cake for her family. She hugged (Y/N) and Spencer and introduced them to her family, while more FBI agents kept showing up. 

Alex Blake parked and nearly ran to the Reids as her husband followed close behind. Kate Callahan showed up as well, with her kids and husband, and soon after, Tara Lewis came along. Raven got to ask her mom for help to serve all the customers, and soon Pen and Luke showed up with more sweets and to refill the lemonade jar. Somehow, what had started like a simple lemonade stand ended up being an FBI get-together family party.  

(Y/N) turned to Spencer and the two of them stared at the scene in shock. Pen and Luke walked to them and Garcia smiled and waved at everybody. 

- “What did you do?”- (Y/N) asked her friend and she simply giggled. 

- “I might have sent a few emails to everybody at the Bureau and some former agents telling them your little Birdie had a little entrepreneur of her own, and encouraged them all to come.”- Garcia explained and smiled innocently. 

- “Everybody is here! We only need Elle and Hotch and we’d have the biggest BAU reunion ever!”- (Y/N) looked around in disbelief and chuckled. 

- “You are forgetting me, little mama.”- (Y/N) froze and turned around slowly. That voice. She could never forget that voice. Derek Morgan stood in front of her, holding Savannah's hand and a stroller with their little boy: Hank Spencer Morgan. 

- “Derek!!”- (Y/N) jumped and ran to hug him, as he chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. 

- “Mrs. Reid! I missed you so much!” 

- “I missed you too!”- (Y/N) said and turned to Savannah, who opened her arms and wrapped her in a hug.- “And you are gorgeous!!”

Spencer stared at their reunion with the biggest smile on his face, holding Vincent in his arms. 

- “Is that my little nephew? You haven’t sent pictures of him this week! He looks so much bigger! What are you feeding him?”- Morgan joked and looked at Spencer. - “You look like you could use a nap, boy wonder.” 

- “Two kids are more work than chasing serial killers”- the young doctor replied and chuckled as Morgan hugged him, tapping his back a couple of times.- “I missed you.”

- “Me too, brother.”- Morgan replied and smiled at his friend- “But I’m sorry to say I’m not here for you, I’m here for my little princess. Where is she?”- Derek walked to the stand, waving at their former colleagues on his way until he reached Raven and held her in his arms. 

- “Uncle Derek! You are here!!”- the little girl yelled and wide opened her eyes - “You have to help me with my stand!”

- “That’s what I am here for! Lemme see what your old man did here…”- Spencer stood behind his friend and waited for him to inspect the construction. 

- “I’m proud, you used the right nail for the wood.”- Morgan said, nodding. 

- “Of course I did.”- Reid replied, almost insulted 

- “Who helped you?”- Derek asked, and before Spencer could deny getting any help, his daughter explained.  

- “Uncle Matt said he had plenty of experience with lemonade stands, so he helped daddy.”

- “Simmons?”- Derek chuckled and turned to Reid.- “You two did a great job.”

- “Thanks.”- Spencer smiled and turned to Raven. - “So, what is your uncle Morgan going to have, birdie?”

- “For you, lemonade on the house, uncle Derek.”- the little girl said and handed him a paper cup. - “But if you want to eat anything, you are gonna have to pay, ‘cos auntie Penelope said we had to split the profits.”- Morgan tried not to laugh, but failed, as Raven stared at him, waiting for a reply. 

- “If that’s the case, I’m gonna have one of everything, thank you very much.”- and the little girl’s face lit with excitement as soon as she heard those words. 

The afternoon ended, the FBI agent returned to their cars, and the BAU family moved from Rossi’s front yard to the back. David, Derek, and Luke prepared a barbecue, the kids played in the backyard, and (Y/N) and Spencer put away the lemonade stand. Nothing was left, not even a cookie. The sale had been a complete success. 

- “How much did she make?”- Mrs. Reid asked her husband, who held the money jar and shook his head.

- “Over three hundred.”

- “Wow… she is gonna go crazy with the books.”- and as (Y/N) said those words and finished cleaning the last jar that was left in the sink, Spencer stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her. 

- “Thank you.”- he whispered in her ear and sighed. 

- “What for?”

- “For giving me everything I ever dreamed of.”- (Y/N) turned around and stared at her husband for a few seconds. She then leaned in and kissed him sweetly. 

- “Eeewww!”- Raven said as she saw her parents kissing as soon as she walked into the kitchen. - “Uncle Derek is right, you are always kissing.” 

- “Hey! Come here-” (Y/N) commanded with a smile and the little girl giggled as she walked to her parents.- “It’s a good thing your parents are always kissing, and we are also always kissing your chubby cheeks!”- and as soon as she delivered that line, both Spencer and (Y/N) started kissing Raven’s cheeks. 

Summer was soon going to end, but those happy memories were definitely going to last forever.    

#Spencer Reid #Criminal Minds #Spencer Reid x fem!reader #Spencer reid x reader #DIWK #dad!Spencer Reid x reader #spencer reid x BAU!Reader #Criminal Minds fanfic #Spencer reid fanfic #Matthew Gray Gubler #MGG #mentioningmargins #babymetaldoll writes

[thinkingaboutjaedyn]

i'm your biggest fan [j.shaw x morgan!child!reader]

prompt: after jaedyn's great performance at the game against argentina, you become her biggest fan.

author notes: been trying to get back to writing more and finally got some inspiration. i have been wanting to write a child!reader fic forever, blame @/woso-dreamzzz because im in love with her child!reader fics so bad. this is me trying to make myself feel better after that shit ass usa vs mexico game 🤗 so enjoy! P.S. the reader is like around five in this.

you're standing on the pitch after the usa vs argentina, happily following around your soccer aunts. this game was one of the best lately. your throat was dry from all the shouting and cheering you have been doing. especially when your mother scored a banger in the nineteenth minute. of course you weren't only cheering only for your mommy, getting loud for all your soccer aunts too. like blondie lindsey and tiny rose. that doesn't mean you haven't been focusing your attention on the new girls though; they are officially your soccer cousins now since they are all too young to be aunties in your opinion.

one new girl in particular has caught your attention. the way she has been performing so strongly throughout the whole match has you obsessed with her. not that you understand soccer tactics or anything, but even a five year old knows good play when they see it. you screamed her name the loudest (right after your mommy's of course); jaedyn. not only was jaedyn the cool new girl who your mommy says is going to the next big thing for the team, but she also wears the number above your mommy's new one. you honestly hated the new number because your mommy is number thirteen, not seven but you can't seem to understand whatever rule your mom told you about because it's too much for your brain so you don't think about it. the only good thing that came out of the change is the fact your mommy's cubby is next to jaedyn's.

the moment you spot the girl in the question as you follow around lynn, who just stopped to talk to crystal about the game, you slip off to where jaedyn is which wasn't a hard task. just having to go through a few legs with some quick "hi!"s in-between.

finally you make it to where jaedyn is sipping on her water bottle. she looks so cool even when just standing around. it seems jaedyn doesn't spot you, so you just do the ol' tug them by the shorts trick and her eyes look down at you.

"oh? hey mini morgan," her smile is like the sun to you. her tone sounds so chill and cool that you try to copy her. "hi big shaw!" you say. your words coming out way less cool than hers but it was worth the effort. the american player lets out a short laugh, ruffling your hair that's in pigtails. making it a bit messy, but you don't really mind. it's jaedyn doing it so why would you?

"big shaw? i'm the only shaw around here, so shouldn't it be shaw the first?" you nod at her words already. "okay, shaw the first, can you teach me how to shoot a banger?" you ask. looking up at her with high exceptions already. the way you say your words make her laugh loudly which confuses you. why is cool girl jaedyn laughing? is it because she thinks you can't score a banger too? or maybe she's like a magician and can't reveal her secrets.

you lean more towards the magician theory, saying, "i promise i won't tell anyone about it! so you can keep your shooting superpower hidden." jaedyn just shakes her head before crouching down to your height. "you don't have to keep it a secret. i think everyone already knows," she whispers, "but yeah i'll teach you. just make sure to ask your mommy." you let a excited gasp as you whip your head around. looking for your mom across the pitch. your expert alex morgan finding eyes locate her easily. turning your head back to look at jaedyn with a smile. you hold out your pinky finger, "pinky promise?"

"pinky promise," jaedyn accepts your declaration of confirmation as she locks her pinky finger with yours. "thanks shaw the first!" you shout at her after pulling away. already running quickly to go ask your mommy to let jaedyn to teach you how to score bangers. hopefully she doesn't question why didn't you just ask her since you wouldn't want to break it your mommy that jaedyn is just cooler. your mommy is still one of the coolest though.

you almost bump into the legs of naomi on your way to your mommy, but dodge quickly with your great dodging skills. naomi even said you might be a defender in the making once. the loud voice of yours can be heard to everyone around you as you finally reach your mommy.

"can big shaw teach me how to score bangers, please!" you shout out happily. your mommy just chuckles before patting the top of your head, "of course, baby."

and that was possibly the path to you being a future forward. all thanks to big shaw.

#uswnt x reader #alex morgan x reader #jaedyn shaw x reader #jaedyn shaw #alex morgan #woso x reader #woso fanfics